Save Me From This Hell
by Pinkster Lily
Summary: Edward never came back from his 'rebelious years’. Carlisle sees a sick Bella and struck by how similar the situation is to Edwards,he changes her.The problem? Bella didn't want to be a vampire. A red-eyed Edward shows up. Can he help Bella to love again?
1. Struck

_Okay, you guys out there voted for this story, so here it is. The plot's still a little under-developed, but I'll work it out._

**The Long Summery**: Edward never came back from his 'rebellious years'. Carlisle sees a sick and dying Bella in the hospital, and struck by how similar her situation is to Edwards, so he changes her. She becomes resentful towards Carlisle for forcing her into a life that she didn't want. And then a red-eyed Edward Masen shows up in the woods. Can he help her to love again, or will she just keep pushing him away?

_And yes, Bella is fifteen._

Save Me From This Hell

By: Vixen Hood

Chapter One:

Struck

August 21, 2003—Carlisle Cullen

Another day at the hospital. Honestly? I hated my job now. I used to love it, used to enjoy helping people so much. But that had all left with the bronze-haired vampire named Edward. I had changed him back in 1918 because, for lack of a better word, I was lonely. Since the 1600's, I had been traveling this world with no immortal companion beside me, and at that stage in my existence, I had become incredibly morbid. Sure, not on the outside—but on the inside? That was an entirely different story.

I should have realized then, after the three days of his change that Edward wasn't quite like every other vampire on the street. Or, maybe I should have realized that he was exactly like them in every aspect.

But, foolish as I was then, I didn't see the warning signs of the something that was wrong with Edward. I still think that even today, I would never be able to understand him completely. But as he became more depressed with the life he was leading, I didn't notice. I had found a wife, Esme, a few short years after having changed Edward after he nearly died of the Spanish Influenza outbreak in Chicago. So caught up as I was, I didn't notice that Edward sometimes left home for days at a time and came back shielding his eyes from me. I should have understood that even though Edward was technically a man now, he definitely was not one mentally.

You see, when a vampire is changed, he or she is usually locked into their mental state, and for Edward that was a young seventeen year old boy, who was going through all the typical things that teenagers do. He was just like them in this regard; even if he was more mature than most of them. It was idiotic of me to not realize this, though sadly true.

So when he came home one day after a week long disappearance, I began to question him. It was about 1926, and I now had a son and a wife. I was happy. But clearly, he was not. I suppose, thinking back on it, it was not entirely my fault, but the fact that I chose not to help him with his depression was. So when the time came that he came home in 1927 covered in blood—human blood—and his eyes were the bright, unnatural red of a vampire who had just killed a human, I realized that I had indeed made a grave mistake. I had thought that Edward was just suffering from the teenage angst that had followed him from when he was human into vampirism, but it was not so. I had been so wrong in assuming it was nothing, and now I had to pay for it.

Edward and I argued into the morning, throwing things and screaming. It was so unlike us both that Esme had to leave the house, she was so scared. I had never before raised my voice, least of all to Edward, my son in all but blood. But now that he was covered in it and his eyes had gone from the topaz that I was so used to, to the red that I despised, I was for once in my long life, furious. How could he harm humans after what I had taught him? How could he stand the guilt of killing an innocent? It was after I voiced this question, yelling at him, that he answered, he had no remorse. He killed the rapists, the murderers. I had to agree, if for a moment, that it was better than killing an innocent man or woman. But it was still wrong. Though, he did not agree with me.

So it was with the loudest yell that I told him to get out of my house. I told him to come back when he decided to stop killing. He left the house then, not even bothering to gather his possessions as he did. I thought that he would surely come back after a few months, maybe a few years at most. How could he stand hearing last thoughts of his victims, the last things they ever thought about him? With his gift of mind reading, it had to become unbearable at some point or another. But how wrong I was, I didn't find out until ten years later, and he still had not returned. It was not the fact that he could not find us. It was that he did not wish too.

I had insisted to Esme that we not move for many years following, just getting another job in a different town when the humans became suspicious of our appearance.

But it was with a heavy heart that we finally moved in the spring of 1933 to Rochester, New York. It was there that I found Rosalie Hale, the eighteen year old girl who was to be married to Royce King. It had been he and his friends that had beaten and raped Rosalie then left her in the winter snow for dead. I changed her, hoping that maybe saving her would make up for my mistake with Edward. But even years after, when I gave her the love of her life, Emmett, I still felt guilt for my ignorance.

In 1950, when Alice and Jasper joined our little family after searching for us for two years, I thought, maybe I was meant to be given redemption. But even after the most recent additions to our make-shift family, nothing was ever the same. I had fallen deeper into depression than even Edward had, and only Esme knew why. The rest had heard of Edward, briefly when Esme mentioned him, because I could never say his name aloud after what I had done. They could never understand what it was like to lose your first son, your first companion, in several hundred years.

The nurse at the front desk handed me a clipboard with a patient's name on it. It was someone I had never met before, though I had heard of her. Her name was Isabella Swan, and she was suffering from a case of the Spanish Influenza. It was the first time I had heard of the Influenza reoccurring since the 1918 outbreak of it, or at least the first time that I had been in the same hospital as a person who was diagnosed with it. My co-worker, Dr. Snow, had been on the case but there had been a family emergency that had caused him to leave the small rainy town of Forks and leave to bright and sunny California. So the case had fallen to me. I looked through his notes on the case. Isabella had been in the hospital for two weeks and was in bad condition. If she didn't start improving dramatically she would be dead within the week. Usually, people who fell ill with the Influenza got better because of the newer antibiotics, but she had come in too late. I walked slowly to the infectious diseases ward on floor two. She was being kept in isolation, so as not to spread the Influenza to others. Not even her parents were allowed to see her without the shield of a hospital mask and a yellow disinfected gown. Even then, it was behind a pane of glass that they viewed their sick daughter while she coughed blood and wheezed.

When I entered the room that visitors were allowed to stand in, I found it empty of any humans. Her parents were nowhere in sight, and I figured that they'd had enough of watching their daughter as she breathed with the help of a respirator and the heart monitor beeped out her heart rate with the occasional pause in between. I washed my hands and put on the mask, gloves, and gown. Of course, it was all for show, and even if Isabella was conscious enough to notice that I wasn't wearing the necessary protective gear, I didn't want to risk a nurse walking in and seeing me. Through the glass, it was almost as if she was disconnected from the world, but when I walked through that last door and into her room, it was as if I was suddenly in a new world. She looked so much worse here than she did through the pane of glass. Her dark brown hair was oily and stringy from the sweat that had seeped into it from the fever and her face a paper white, whiter than my own even. I would have thought she was a vampire like myself had I not been able to hear her heart, struggling to keep beating. She was barely even able to breathe on her own and the respirator that helped do the task for her made a hollow, windy sound each time it pumped oxygen into her failing lungs.

The florescent lights of the hospital played on her pale face, enunciating the dark bruise-like shadows under her eyes.

I stifled a gasp of horror. Her appearance had brought me back to a time of panic, of fear. Back to Fall of 1918 where people fell ill left and right, and everybody was afraid of contracting the Influenza. And in a sudden and irrational decision, I did the one thing that I had promised myself over and over that I _would not_ do, not since I changed Emmett to make Rosalie happy. I had never wanted to change him in the first place, but after I had, I couldn't help but recognize that I had made my daughter happy. But it never meant much. It was a completely different situation then, but now, here in the present, it was such a similar case. And then it struck me. This was my chance for the redemption I had been looking for ever since that fateful day in 1927! This was my chance to make everything right!

Changing someone in a hospital was a lot harder now than it was back in 1918, and first I had to fake her death. It would be a lot easier at night than it would have been during the daytime, seeing as there were only a few people on staff in such a small town. I poked my head out into the hallway to check if anyone was passing by. The whole corridor was empty, and I was pretty sure that there would only be about one other doctor in the entire hospital and only about five nurses, if everyone was on their proper shifts.

I moved back into Isabella's room and took one last look at her before going back into the hallway and walking quickly to the locked storeroom where we kept all the medicine in the ward. I punched in the access code and opened the metal door, closing it behind me quietly. When I found the shelf I was looking for, I snatched the bottles I needed and pocketed them, rushing back into Isabella's room. I could hear her heart starting to give up its fight against the Influenza. It would be easy to fake her death with the liquids that I had taken. Two of the three bottles were fluids that if combined, would create the appearance of death, and make her pulse so faint that it would be virtually undetectable to a human's ear. After giving her the concoction, all I had to do was mess with some of the wires of the heart monitor so that it gave a false code blue. No one would try to revive her because she was going to die soon anyways. The fact was we were actually waiting for her to die, as morose as that sounded.

When I declared her dead in front of the rest of the staff, I would take her down to the morgue. Fortunately, it said in her file that her parents wanted her cremated because they wished to spread her ashes out somewhere in Phoenix. All I would have to do would be pretend to cremate her when in reality I would bite her and then take her home with the urn I was to put her ashes in. Then I would simply put the ashes from the fireplace into the little ceramic jar and bring it to the Swan residence. It would be easy.

When I had completed the first part of my plan, I disconnected a few of the wires in the machine and the called into the speaker by the bed for assistance. I declared her dead at 10:43 p.m. One of the nurses left to notify Isabella's parents while I took her down to the morgue. I found the urn that the parents had wanted her ashes in and picked it up. So far my plan was working flawlessly. I lifted Isabella into my arms and sped out the back door of the hospital so fast that not even the cameras in the hallways would be able to detect me. Once in the parking lot, I deposited her in the backseat of my black Mercedes.

Placing myself in the car so that I could lift her neck up to my lips, I took at deep breath and bit down.

There was no reaction at first, and I continued to bit her wrists and thin legs. Her blood filled my mouth once again as I bit the other side of her neck, the last place I would puncture her skin with my teeth. I was lucky that I had the amount of control I did, or else I would have killed her. Even though she didn't smell appetizing, her blood was wonderful, even if it tasted of all the medicine that had been pumped into her body. I gave her the last bottle I had stolen from the hospital, the deep red drops spilling into her mouth and glistening on her cracked lips. This one would revive her, and she started to twitch in pain as the serum began to take affect. I climbed into the front seat and whipped out my cell phone to call home and let Esme know. It would be a long three days, but it would also be well worth it, if in place of the mental torture, I would receive a daughter and my chance at making things right.

_I know this really doesn't sound too much like Carlisle, but I think this would be how he acted if Edward never came back. You guys voted for this, so please review! It was my birthday on the 18th, and it would be the best birthday present ever if you guys reviewed!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	2. To Cease to Beat

_I'm pretty sure that this story is going to be mostly in Carlisle's POV. If it's someone else's, I'll put it up where their POV starts. Thanks._

_**OMG! OMC! I got 21 reviews just for the first chapter! You guys all rock!**_

Chapter Two:

To Cease to Beat

It had been three days. Three days of Isabella's screams echoing through my large house as my venom was pumped through her veins. I was waiting in the room I had given her, waiting for the transformation to end. I felt a small streak of remorse as she screamed again, this time louder than before. The transformation was about to end, only a few minutes left, at the most an hour, before her heart would stop.

I felt a strange sense of pride that it was _my_ venom that was causing her transformation. No one could deny that I was her sire, and she was bonded to me for the rest of her existence, because no matter what, I would always have my mark on her. She was my child, in every way but blood, just like Edward had been.

The room that I had given her was the one that I knew Edward would have taken, had he come back. It was large with gold colored carpet and one of the walls was made entirely of glass. Edward had enjoyed his space very much, and the wall-window was just the kind of thing that he would have liked. I knew that I was in deep. I had taken my chance at repentance seriously, and I had become obsessed with my new daughter.

The rest of the family's reactions to having a new member had been somewhat predictable. Rosalie, of course, was furious that we had to move again after being here for only a few months. School had just started, and she didn't want to have to move again. Emmett pretty much sided with her, but was less upset about moving while Alice had been ecstatic that she was going to have a new playmate to dress up seeing as Rosalie didn't let Alice do her hair and makeup. Jasper had been hesitant to say the least. He was concerned about our treaty with the werewolves of La Push, but even if they looked into our disappearance, they would never be able to find out that I had changed Isabella. And Esme, my wife and the only one who could even begin to comprehend what I had been thinking and going through, she was the one whose opinion I cared about most. When I had come through that front door holding Isabella, she had immediately seen my face and understood why I had done it. She could see why I had decided to change her before I had even told her in the privacy of my study. She was the only one in the entire family that knew _exactly_ why I had changed Isabella and had accepted it.

Alice had already filled Isabella's closet with new clothes and had bought all the necessities for bathing and getting ready for the day. She even had purchased a black leather couch for Isabella to lie on until we moved. Everything was ready and soon we would be on our way to some place where I could teach Isabella control.

Her heart began to beat slower and her screams became even louder, if it was possible. She writhed on the leather couch, her hands tearing at her chest, and I knew exactly what she was going though at those last few moments in which the venom would enter the heart and in the end cease its beating. The pain was almost as if having your heart torn out of your very body, and then, while still being able to feel it, having it being torn apart and eaten. Overall, not a very pleasant feeling to have to endure for a solid thirty-three seconds, but unavoidable none the less.

My musings stopped as I heard a low groan.

She was awake.

**I feel so guilty for taking so long to update. But I have a reason! It's not that I didn't want to write, it was that I couldn't. I busted my hand on the stairs and I can't really type with only eight fingers. Well, I can, but it takes FOREVER!**

**I'll try to get up the next chapter soon and sorry for the pitiful amount of words!**

**Signed,**

**V.H.**


	3. Maybe Everything Will Be Alright

_Oh my gosh, thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm so happy that people seem to like this story a lot. So, on with the chapter, which hopefully isn't as pitiful as the last one!_

Chapter Three:

Maybe Everything Will Be Alright

Brilliant crimson irises connected with my own topaz set, and I was suddenly reminded of the first time I had seen eyes like these. Edward again came to my mind and I almost said his name, but caught myself just in time. "Isabella," I greeted kindly, smiling at her. She was beautiful. Everything that a father would wish in their child. Long, flowing mahogany hair drifted down her back and slid around in impossibly silky waves as she sat up and stared around at the room, seemingly overcome with the simplicity and the beauty of it. Her skin was a flawless white and she had a small, delicate looking frame. Her hands reached out in front of her, as if she meant to stretch taunt muscles after a night's rest. Her thin fingers strained and then relaxed, small hands coming back to rest at her sides as she surveyed me.

"Who are you?"

Her voice, melodic in sound, broke the somewhat tense air that filled the room. She bit her lip, as if in nervousness. "I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen," I started. "I was assigned to your case after Dr. Snow had to leave on a family emergency."

She looked at me thoughtfully for a few minutes, emotions flashing through her eyes so fast that I couldn't recognize any of them. Then, finally, "Why am I not dead?"

My breath hitched in my throat. I knew I would have to answer this question, I had to answer it with every single person I had changed, but this felt different. It felt like the first time all over again, the first time I had to tell someone I was a vampire. Emotions were flying through me and I felt disoriented. "Please, try to believe me," I begged. "Everything I tell you now is completely and utterly true." Isabella nodded for me to continue. "Isabella, the reason that you are not dead at this very moment is that my family and I are vampires. I bit you in the hospital and the three days in which you felt like fire was burning through your veins was actually my venom running through your body."

She looked at me again, face expressionless. "So, what you're trying to say is I'm a vampire?"

I nodded, relieved that she had seemed to have taken the news so well. I immediately berated myself as she did something that Edward had also done when faced with the news.

She laughed.

Long and loud she laughed, the sound like harmonious church bells as the reverberation of her hysterics bounced off the walls and surrounded me in a cloud of laughter, the sounds causing me to become even more disoriented. It was just like being back in 1918 again as she accused, "You must be mad, a vampire? Aren't they supposed to have red eyes and only be able to come out at night?" She gestured to the window, which revealed that it was clearly daytime. "Tell me the truth," she demanded, eyes daring me to contradict her statements.

I sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. "I'm not lying, nor do I think I'm insane yet. Look at yourself in a mirror if you do not believe me." I nodded towards a door that led to the bathroom. She looked at me suspiciously before standing up cautiously and walking to the bathroom. The second she disappeared into the bathroom I heard a loud scream and suddenly she was before me, not even looking startled by her vampire speed. Anger flashed in her red eyes and contorted her features, making her soft face sharp and somehow even more devastatingly beautiful.

"Why," she asked, "did you do this to me? Did you not once think that I wanted to die?!"

I gasped and leaned back, out of my chair and standing at once. How could this young, fifteen year old girl want to die? She had everything in life ahead of her and she resented the fact that she was able to live. "W-what?" I stuttered out. Maybe I had made a mistake. Because this seemed to be turning out just like how Edward's turned out. And his situation did not have a happy ending.

"You heard me. I was ready to go, I wanted to leave! Between Renee's secret boyfriend and everyone else in this miserable little town, it was enough to make me want to die! Only now I can't, thanks to you." I heard her mutter under her breath something that I clearly wasn't suppose to hear, but did nonetheless, "And now I don't have a soul."

I was aghast. How could she believe she had no soul? It was exactly like Edward. It was too much for me. I strode over to her, ignoring her obvious reluctance to get anywhere near me as I took her face in my hands and made her look me in the eye. "What makes you think you have no soul?" I had to address this, had to change her mind. To save her from ending like Edward.

"I'll have to kill. I won't have a soul after that." She looked away.

I suddenly embraced her and rested my cheek against the top of her head. She struggled for a few moments before becoming still again, tense beneath my arms. "You don't have to kill, Isabella. You can be like the rest of my family and I. We drink from animals. You still will have a soul. Even if you chose not to feed from animals you still would."

She buried her face into my shirt and I had a feeling that she would be crying if she could.

Maybe I hadn't made a mistake. Maybe Isabella could help me from my depression. Maybe everything would be alright.

Little did I know that everything I had ever worked for would go downhill. And soon.


	4. Wasn't Apparent?

Chapter Four:

Wasn't Apparent?

We had moved to Canada in order to avoid causing Isabella strain with her training. She didn't talk much, and when she did it was only to say a few words. I knew she was just trying to adjust to her new life with the family. Everyone here was a stranger to her because we had only just moved to town when I changed her.

It didn't seem that Isabella had a power. I had observed her for weeks, and now it had been six months since we moved from Forks. If she had a power, it wasn't apparent, and it was because of this that I believed she didn't have a power. Nothing as straight forward as Edward's or Alice's powers had shown and neither had anything such as Jasper's empathy or Emmett's strength.

But it made her even more unique in my eyes that she was so modest and normal, and I loved her with everything I had in my heart. As all vampires should be made, I had created her out of love, and it was with this love that I nurtured her so that she learned all about vampire kind and how to feed. I took her out hunting almost every day and wouldn't let anyone else take her out to feed. I taught her how to control her bloodlust and about all the different scholars and philosophers of the eras. She was my daughter.

But she was distant in a way that I knew would eventually lead to disaster if ignored, and so I worked carefully with her. Esme understood what I was doing, and somehow the rest of the family came to think they knew what I was doing. When they thought I wasn't listening, I could hear them say things like, _"He's making another Edward"_ and_ "He's trying to get over his grief"_.

Was I really trying to create another Edward? Someone to fill the hole that had been practically seared into my heart? Did they really think that? Either way, as the days passed I could feel the hole starting to heal, slowly but surely beginning to sew itself together stitch by stitch. How could it not? Isabella was my sun now, my bright and shining star. And I found myself confiding this to Esme at night when Isabella was listening to her music and all of my other children were too busied with each other to hear my confessions. Esme may have been my love, my life, my soul, but it was my daughter Isabella that quickened me once again. I no longer flinched when I happened to hear Edward's name occasionally mentioned.

Life was good.

Life was great.

And I didn't want it to stop anytime soon.

_I'm sorry it's so short! I swear the next one will be longer! This is mainly a filler chapter. Please review; you guys are the ones that inspire me._

_And a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, including __**kylie**__ who (unknowingly) gave me a kick to get this chapter started and posted. _

_I have the next chapter already written, but I want at least 10 reviews before I post it!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	5. Seams Ready to Burst Yet?

Chapter Five:

Seams Ready to Burst Yet?

A soft knock reached me at my study door. I looked at the clock on my desk and got a start as I realized it had been several hours that I had been up here in this room. I had been reading one of my many novels on vampires because I, unlike most of the other vampires I knew, actually enjoyed reading them. Even if they were laughable at best, they were fascinating. The simple idea that there were so many different takes on vampires interested me and I had just finished reading the novel _Interview with the Vampire_ by Anne Rice. An older novel, yes, but enthralling nonetheless. The character Lestat intrigued me the most, how he behaved and acted. He let nothing get in his way. But I had long since finished that book about an hour ago and had moved on to the sequel, _The Vampire Lestat_. I was even more captivated by this book. When before I had thought Lestat to be evil, I now saw exactly why he did everything and what had caused him to act with such malevolence. I actually pitied him as he spoke about his struggles with his best friend Nicolas and his mother Gabrielle.

Maybe it was because he was so like Edward in his fight, but I now understood everything. Why he killed and enjoyed it, why he changed Louis. Though it did not make it any more justified, killing was all he knew and would ever know. And though Louis didn't think that he did, Lestat had changed him because he loved him. I had changed both Edward and Isabella out of love, right?

My thoughts were interrupted as Isabella herself entered the study and sat down before me. I knew she had come to ask something because she usually kept to herself. Perched upon the edge of the fine leather chair she looked from me to the book in my hands with a sort of fascinated innocence. "I pity Louis," she said suddenly.

"Oh?" I asked. "I rather think that Lestat is the one that should be pitied, raised the way he was." She cocked her head to the side.

"But Lestat treated Louis with such contempt, he doesn't deserve pity." Her eyes bored into mine with an unidentified emotion, understanding perhaps?

"But Lestat didn't mean too and he regretted it. He loved Louis with all his heart and soul, that's why he changed him into a vampire. And between his mad friend Nicolas and his distant mother he had every right to be vengeful. And don't forget that all Lestat ever wanted was to go to school, but his father wouldn't let him and burned all his books to keep him from going."

"Yes, but he made Louis feel as if all Lestat created him for was his money. And then when he changed Claudia. It was because of Lestat that she died. And in turn Louis died emotionally because Claudia died." She had a very good point, and I knew that we could probably go on for hours like this but there was a different reason that Isabella had come to see me other than to discuss the right and wrong of a book written in the 1980's.

"Isabella, you must have come to ask me something," I said to her. I think she might have flinched when I said her name, I couldn't be sure.

"And what makes you think that? Why couldn't I just come to see my dear creator?" I didn't miss that she deliberately didn't call me father.

"Because you enjoy keeping to yourself. Please, child, what have you to ask?" Her face suddenly became hesitant and it dawned on me that she was stalling the inevitable by debating about Louis and Lestat. "Come now, it can't be too horrible." I smiled and she met my eyes for a fraction of a second before turning to stare at the book I had just put down. Her eyes traced the cover, hiding the emotion that I knew had just been in them and had been unable to identify before she turned away.

"I came to ask…about…Edward. Who is he? There seems to be a lot of talk about him when the coven thinks I am not listening." I sat, stunned.

"Isabella," I began, reaching out a hand to lift her face up. Her bright crimson eyes were guarded; as if she was afraid I might scream and shout. "First, we are a family and you are part of it."

She nodded and looked away again. "Family…" she muttered so lowly that I almost didn't hear her. A few more words followed it though I didn't understand them.

"Yes," I continued, pulling my hand away to fold on my desk. I was afraid to talk about Edward, but I knew that she would eventually find out about him. "Edward…he was the first vampire I ever changed. He left several years after though." My words were laced with sorrow, even to my own ears.

"Why?"

Such a simple and short word, yet the one that caused my heart to twinge when I thought about the answer. "He decided that he did not want to live this kind of life with me. He wanted humans. I have not seen him since."

A sort of lingering comprehension lit in her eyes, and I had a strange feeling that she suddenly knew more than I had just told her. I shook it off. "Now, let us not stay inside here all day and speak of such dreadful things. You must be thirsty, you haven't hunted for a few days," I said to her, standing.

Mirth filled her eyes as she stood as well and said, "Yes, a few…days."

I didn't get the joke that she was obviously laughing at and decided on not asking. It would be better for the both of us that way. I really wanted to get out and take my sudden aggression out on some animal, maybe a bear or a mountain cat.

_I think mountain lion is my favorite._

I shook my head vigorously as Isabella's back turned to face me. It wouldn't be good to think of those things now.

_I don't want to live your way of life anymore._

_Stop it,_ I moaned in my head. _Please stop._

We were at the front door when I stopped in my tracks. I needed to be alone right now. The memories were starting to come and I didn't want anyone to see me once they did. "You know what Isabella? You can go out with Esme or by yourself if you want. I've just remembered that I have to read a report for my work. Maybe another time?"

She turned and I swear I saw something like triumph in her eyes, but it was gone to quick for me to make sure. "Okay."

Once the word left her lips I ran back upstairs, slamming and locking the study's door. No one would come in out of respect for me, not even Esme. I curled up on the couch in the corner of my study, holding myself together at the seams for the first time since 1927.


	6. Would It Be Wrong?

Chapter Six:

Would It Be Wrong?

_Why did you change me?_

_Thank you for taking me in Carlisle._

_I can't believe I almost killed him._

_I think mountain lion is my favorite._

_I miss my mother and father._

_Thank you for being here for me, father._

_Must we move again?_

_The girls at school were staring at me again. Their thoughts were most vile._

_You would think that young and supposedly innocent girls would not think such graphic things._

_Would you like me to play for you? My mother taught me._

_On the contrary, I believe that the Parkinson's are a horrible group of people._

_So vain._

_Must we see your friends in Italy? I rather dread meeting these vampires who call themselves royalty._

_We don't have to go?_

_Ashland you say?_

_You met her when she was sixteen?_

_Do you love her?_

_I think Esme is a wonderful mother figure. And she loves you more than she could ever describe with words._

_I think it would be a wonderful idea for you two to marry._

_Carlisle, I'm going to go back to Chicago to reclaim my mother's possessions._

_It'll only be a few months at most._

_I don't want to live your way of life anymore._

_I despise not being able to give into my needs. It's unnatural. _We're_ unnatural._

_Lose my soul? I have no soul!_

_Why would I think that? Because I have to kill to live! Even if animals!_

_Shut up._

_I will speak to you however I wish to speak._

_I am not your son and I never was or will be!_

_I despise you. I _hate_ you._

_If you want me to leave then I will. And don't expect to ever see me again._

If I could die I would right now, at this very moment. Our fight kept playing in my head like a broken record. I wanted to take it and shatter it into a million pieces until it was an unintelligible mass of mangled pieces. Why did he have to hate me? He said that he despised me, that he never was my son. Was I wrong to change him? I loved him enough to keep him, to not let him die and leave this wonderful world. And he abused the human life and thought of them as just plain annoying. He didn't understand what a gift it was to be able to see the life of a human before us, to observe all the seemingly petty things that they fretted over daily in their short life?

I tried to share my love of mortals with him. And he hated me for it.

Was I wrong to yell?

Was I wrong to banish him?

Was I wrong to respond at all?

Was I wrong completely and utterly about him? After all, he was the mind reader, not I. But then wouldn't he see that I loved him more than I could ever describe to him? That I cared for him more than I did for myself?

And Isabella, the way she looked at me when I told her I couldn't go. Did she hate me too? Or was I imagining things? Was I paranoid or just overly concerned? It seemed as if she had intentionally brought up the subject to hurt me, but why would she do that? She was not a malicious person. No, definitely not. So what had just happened?

Why couldn't this universe make sense to me? It seemed as if the whole world was out to get me lately.

Maybe I should tell Isabella the truth about Edward, but then she would just hate me. I couldn't have another child hating me because of what I said and did. No, I would not tell her.

I only hope that this is the right thing to do.

_Okay people! You know the drill. At least ten reviews (maybe more?) and you get an update. I'd love to reach 100 soon…_

_I wonder what you all think Bella's power is. I had a couple people say that they thought they knew but I want to see what everyone thinks._

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	7. Liar Liar

Chapter Seven:

Chapter Seven:

Liar Liar

I don't know how long I was in my study, just trying to hold myself together. The pain was still hitting me in waves that made me feel as if I was being torn apart and burned. The stairs never seemed to end as I slowly traversed the last flight and turned towards my door. I could hear Isabella's pounding music coming from her room, muted by the near soundproof walls.

How could this happen? It seemed that I was slowly loosing her, my daughter slowly disconnecting herself from me and leaving me behind as she tried to run away. My thoughts were swirling around my head and made absolutely no sense to me. Why now? Why not earlier, or better yet, never? Why did she have to distant herself from me? From the family?

Esme began to rub my back as I collapsed onto our large king-sized bed.

Something that Isabella had said earlier was still ringing in my head: _there seems to be a lot of talk about him when the coven thinks I am not listening._ Why would she say "the coven"? Had nothing I had taught her imprinted upon her brain? She was welcome here, not just welcomed but _wanted_. And when she murmured _family_…it was as it there was some hidden irony to it. What were those words I had not heard? She was the strangest creature, nothing that I could make sense of. What went on in her complex brain continued to elude me and it vexed me to no end. I could usually understand how people thought, especially the ones in my family. So _exactly what was she thinking?_

It dawned on me that this sort of behavior was very unlike me. Nervous, paranoid, almost stalker-ish behavior. What was going on with me? Why was I doing this? Worrying this much about something not confirmed. Then I realized it and it was as if a light bulb had gone off over my head. _I am trying to protect myself._

I finally realized something then that I had before been too wistful and naïve to realize. I had ignored the signs of it, all of the signs. Just like Edward. But now I was realizing ahead of time that it was happening. If I could delay it, then I would, but stopping it all together was definitely not going to happen. Because all along I subconsciously knew this was going to happen. She was so much like Edward, so why wouldn't it happen just like how it happened to him?

I had known all along, but it was my self-delusion that was blinding me. She was going to leave. My darling daughter, my beautiful Isabella was going to leave me. For however long, I didn't know. But she was going to leave me. The only question was when.

Then I had another epiphany. Now I knew what Isabella had found so funny when I had talked to her about hunting. It was unfortunate and made me feel the ghost feelings of anger and shame, but true. And I of course wouldn't know because her eyes were still crimson. Isabella had been feeding off of humans. She had said she never wanted to be a vampire—that she had wanted to die. I should have thought before I acted, but it was much too late now. Maybe killing humans was, in a way, her version of dying? I mean, she acts like Edward, talks like Edward, so maybe she thought like Edward? Maybe she believed she had no soul? So killing humans would mean dying for her in a way. Punishment for what she was. Plus the added fact that she _was_ a vampire and drinking human blood would be second nature.

I would have to do the one thing I could in order to try and help her, for it was inevitable that eventually she would leave. I would try to hold onto her as long as possible and maybe send her off with the idea that killing humans was morally wrong and then she would feed from animals instead. It would be a long shot, a very long shot, but if it meant at least one human would live to die of natural causes (which we certainly were _not_) then it would be worth it.

So I sat up in bed then and composed my face, pulling Esme to me and resting her head on my chest. The future decided for now, I was—somewhat—content. Though I tried to block it out, Isabella's music continued to pound through the walls and down the hall to me. It was interesting, her choice of music. Angry and sad at the same time. But a phrase from one particularly angry song stood out to me.

_Liar, liar, pants on fire  
Liar, liar, stop your soul from catching  
Fire, fire, god and maker  
Liar, liar, you fucking liar  
You fucking liar_

Liar, liar, you fucking liar

_Liar, liar, you fucking liar_

_Liar, liar, you fucking liar_

Liar, liar, pants on fire  
Hanging from a telephone wire.

_**Okay guys, you know the drill, review. The lyrics above are from the song **_**Liar Liar (Burn in Hell)**_** by**_** The Used**_**. I thought the lyrics were particularly fitting for this chapter.**_

_**Still no ideas for Bella's power? Only one person had figured it out of about 24. I would think it was rather obvious, but then again, I am the author who came up with her power, so maybe it's not as obvious as I thought.**_

_**And I'm really sorry that this chapter is so short. But the next chapter is in Bella's POV (aren't you excited?) and it will be longer!**_

_**Remember, reviews equal updates!**_

_**Signed,**_

_**V.H.**_


	8. This Is How I Disappear

Chapter

Chapter 8:

This Is How I Disappear

Isabella Marie Swan

If I could die, I would now.

If I could scream, I would now.

If I could cry, I would definitely be doing that now.

I never asked for this, I never wanted to be this. _I wanted to die._ But Carlisle couldn't understand that concept. Oh no, to him, he was doing me a favor. How wrong he was I didn't wish to point out.

I hated him, and his stupid family, and this stupid lifestyle. If I was a vampire, then why did I resist my nature, what came more natural to me than breathing did when I was still human and somewhat (not really) happy?

If I had no freaking soul, then why did I even attempt to resist? I was damned either way, might as well do it thoroughly, right?

You see, I never used to be this sadistic and masochistic. I used to be loving and caring, and I would never dream of harming a fly, let alone a human. But dear Doctor Cullen had changed that. Call me vindictive, but I have my reasons.

You see, unbeknownst to the rest of the coven, I actually did have a power. I had it since I had woken up to find myself devastatingly beautiful and with horrifyingly red eyes. But I never said anything about it. It was my secret that allowed me insight into the things that went on around me. It was my way of knowing what people around me did and why. And though Carlisle didn't know, or even dream of me knowing, I knew exactly why he had changed me, even though he himself didn't know all the reasons. 

I was a replacement child. Someone to replace the runaway named Edward. I knew all about their little fight and how he left to live off of humans. I knew every single thought that had gone through Carlisle's head before and after that day in 1927.

He had not changed me because he loved me. He had changed me because he hoped that I could be like Edward and be his child. He liked me now, sure, but he had a tendency to be overbearing and annoying in his habits of taking me out hunting. Only he would take me, and on rare occasions he would allow Esme too. Yes, that's right, allow.

I hated him. I hated him with a burning, fiery passion that I doubted would ever ebb away. I hated him with every fiber of my being as I watched him hug Esme and speak to the others. I hated him as he tried to teach me control. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, we were bound together in hatred. Even though I hated him more than any other being in existence, the prospect of being alone for eternity was more terrifying than staying with him was.

But he knew nothing about me.

Hell, he didn't even know that I despised being called Isabella, but instead preferred the shortened version of Bella. But only people I liked called me that, so I didn't correct him. The more distance I could put between us, the better.

He said he loved me. I wanted to believe him, wanted to with all my heart. But how could I? When Renee had been cheating on Charlie I learned the love never lasted the hard way. I had caught her with the man named Phil once, and she had asked me to keep it quiet. And I had, but that was only because I didn't want to hurt my father. I loved him, and still did. Even after so many months of pain.

And even when I became sick, she still was cheating. She didn't love Charlie any more, but this intruder called Phil. That was when I realized, lying in the hospital, that love was not real. And that it wasn't forever as all the romance novels I had read before claimed.

So when Carlisle said that he loved me as his daughter (or what he had wanted to say), I didn't believe him. I couldn't after all of that. Because even if he thought that he created me out of love, like Lestat had created Louis, he didn't. He created me out of hope for a second chance at redemption. He created me out of hope that I would be like his darling red haired Edward.

Well news flash:

I. Am. Not. HIM!

For all I cared, Edward and all the rest of them could be torn apart and burned by those mutts the coven talked about after I was changed! They were nothing to me at all, and Carlisle was completely idiotic for thinking that he could keep me forever. I would leave him soon, very soon. It was only a matter of time. Once I established where I was going to go and live. Then I would be gone for good and the coven would never hear hide or hair of me.

Perhaps Chicago. That would be a nice city to go to and remain undetected. They had a high crime rate.

Or to Voltera. The Volturi might be interested in my power enough to keep me. Knowing everything that went unsaid would be a good thing. They would already have a mind reader most likely, but what about someone who is all knowing? 

That would be an interesting conversation.

And of course, once I was ready to leave, I would explain to Carlisle _exactly_ what my power was. What a state of shock he would be in! Finally he would know why I brought up the subject of Edward earlier. I knew it would hurt him, I knew it would distract him.

And by now, you are probably wondering why I would want to distract him.

Well, I was going to take this opportunity to go into the "library" and forge papers for myself. You know the usual. Birth certificate, immunization cards, I.D., and then maybe hack into public records so that I could place myself into the foster care system and get adopted. Or I could make my "parents" birth certificates and just claim that they were always away on business trips or something. I liked option A, but the only problem with that was I needed to stay with Carlisle in order to get more control. But option B would be harder to do since eventually people would notice that my (fake) parents were never around and they would start questioning. I could sacrifice and stay with Carlisle for a little bit longer.

That was another reason I hated him. I was only fifteen in appearance. Way to young to pretend that I had graduated from school and had not gone to college. I was stuck going to school either way. It was completely and utterly annoying. Didn't they have laws against creating a vampire so young that they wouldn't be able to support themselves?

Apparently not because I am Exhibit A.

You might not have caught on, but I don't like being a vampire.

But I can't change it so I have to deal with the hand that I was dealt. As for my plan, I have now decided to go with option A, which would be a lot easier to do and more foolproof. I would pretend to eat and actually swallow the human food if I had to. Because of my small size I could get away with saying that I didn't need to eat a lot. Then during the night I could go out hunting for humans and—in extreme cases—animals. I would wear color contacts to hide my bright burgundy eyes. Probably brown. Or blue. Either way, my eyes would end up being either amber or violet because the red color would not be masked completely. I would just chose later on a whim.

It was perfect, it was foolproof, and now was my chance to put it into action.

I eased my bedroom door open, the end of the song _Liar Liar_ by _The Used_ finally filtering through the thick wood door and into the hallway. I shut the door quietly as the next song started to play. I could hear Carlisle and Esme in their room down the hall and silently prayed to any God out there that no one would notice me. Seeing as everyone was with their respective partners for the night, I was in luck. Something or someone out there was watching over me, for the time being at least. 

I jumped over the stair that creaked as I made my way down the stairs to the second floor to get the key from Carlisle's office. We kept the door to the library locked incase of intruders (very unlikely out in the middle of nowhere and with sleepless vampires in the house). I looked around the dark office for the key that I had spotted earlier while talking to Carlisle about Anne Rice's novels. A glint of silver caught my eye, and I walked over to the desk drawer that was the source of the light. It was propped open slightly, and there on the top of a pile of papers was the piece of metal that would ultimately get me out of this place.

I snatched it up and placed it in my pocket while running up the stairs.

"Hey, Izzy!"

NO! Why did he have to see me now? I was suddenly grateful that I had put the key in my pocket.

I stopped and gritted my teeth into what I hoped was a smile. I turned around to face Emmett who was on the landing below.

"Whatcha doing?" His eyes positively glowed with excitement in the dark, the golden irises watching me intensely. Of all the Cullen's I think I disliked him the least. But then again, he was the most oblivious.

The lie found its way easily to my tongue, and any other member of the coven might have seen through it, but not Emmett. I was lucky it was him that had seen me. "I was just downstairs getting some blood to drink from the fridge."

I could tell that Emmett believed me as he responded, "Really, wow! I was just going down myself to do the same thing. Tastes horrible, but it does the job."

I nodded and smiled again. Animal blood period tasted horrible. But I wasn't going to let him know that. Emmett was definitely not the type of person—vampire—to tell a secret to and expect him to keep it to himself.

"Well, I'll let you go do that then. 'Night, Emmett."

"Goodnight, Isabella!"

I sighed in relief as he went on down the stairs. And turning around, I ran straight into Alice. "Ah!" I shrieked, not expecting her to be there. Wasn't her room on the second floor too?

"Hi Isabella!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes.

"Um…hi Alice."

"Tomorrow we're going to have to go shopping! There is this really cool sale in town."

"Uh…" my mind blanked for once as I tried to find a way out of this. I hated shopping almost as much as I hated being a vampire. This brought me back to hating Carlisle—

"Come on, please?" Alice tried to give me the puppy dog eyes as she looked up at me. And yes, up. She was shorter than me. Shocker, I know. Then my excuse hit me like an eighteen wheeler to the face. Why didn't I think of that earlier?

"I don't think my control's that great yet. You can go with Rosalie and Esme. They'd love it," I told her as her smile faded into a frown of disappointment.

"Okay," she muttered, wandering over to her room.

With out anymore teenage vampires to interrupt me, I made it to the library relatively quick. Digging into my pocket to get the key, I thought about what I was going to do and what I was going to need to get to forge papers later on. I'd probably just go to one of the professionals that the coven used for the documents that Jasper thought it was best to not fake himself.

_Or I could just do it myself._

The thought had credit. I had already proven that I could forge papers quite well when we moved here. All I would have to do would be hide them from the family that would take me in. And that would be easy.

Carlisle was still with Esme and completely oblivious to my activities, as was the rest of the coven.

And though I at first doubted that I would be able to pull this off, I was now ready to leave this place. All I had to do now was falsify some papers.

Then I would be gone for good.

_Okay, first of all, before you all start yelling at me, I don't really like Bella's personality either. But that's the way she is and after Edward shows up she'll get better…probably._

_Don't kill me! Or else you won't know what will happen! And if you review, I might be persuaded to tell you what the title of the chapter will be (which is the one where Edward happens to make an appearance)._

_Review!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	9. A Hateful Vengeance

Chapter Nine:

Chapter Nine:

A Hateful Vengeance

Alice Cullen

I was disappointed that Isabella didn't want to go shopping with me tomorrow—well, later today if my clock has anything to say about it—but that wasn't the reason why I had pushed Jasper away as he tried to kiss me into submission. No, I was contemplating my most recent vision.

You see, I knew all about our dear Isabella's plan to leave. And I knew that she knew that I knew. I also knew that she preferred to be called Bella, but that was something that I didn't do because then the family would have questions, and that would not be good. Not good at all.

And the reason that wouldn't be good was because if I said anything at all, any word about what Isabella was going to do, then everything would crash and burn. She would never come back, she would never learn that humans shouldn't be food, and she would most definitely break Carlisle's heart. I'd had a vision about Edward leaving Carlisle long before I had actually met them, though Carlisle didn't know it. I understood (to a certain degree) what he went through, and I knew from more recent visions that if I said anything, this fight would be much, much worse. I knew that if I said anything, someone would probably die. And I really didn't want to know who.

So I kept what I saw to myself with the hope that things would be alright, that things would go as they should. I wish I had seen what was going to happen oh so soon, after the vision that I had seen that made me think everything would be okay. I wish I was right then. And more than anything, I wish that I had been kinder to Isabella.

One Month Later

Isabella Marie Swan

I tucked my fake birth certificate and passport along with some other important papers into a suitcase that I had filled with clothes and some money that I had siphoned off while Alice was out shopping. My new identity was Anna Marie Giraldez, daughter of Alexandra and Rodrigo Giraldez, and half British, quarter Argentinean, and quarter Peruvian. I could pull off the look and I had blue contacts to cover my red eyes somewhat. I was thirteen, born on September 13, 1990, and in eighth grade. I looked like my mother, which wouldn't be too much of a lie because I actually did look like my real mother.

I hid the suitcase in a cave I had found while I had been out hunting alone (for humans of course) with some of the other things I had stashed there. A laptop that had the necessary software to hack into government files, a small box that held all my CD's and a small player with headphones, and a few other essentials. I had taken down the numbers and locations of people in Chicago and the surrounding areas that I could go to if I needed to get more forged papers and couldn't do them myself. I was planning on staying until I was "seventeen," though I could stay another year if people didn't start to get too suspicious.

Now it was just a matter of the right time to leave. After I had left I would use the laptop to enter myself into the government's foster care system and then I would go to social services in Chicago so that I could be placed into a home. I would most likely be adopted—humans were powerless against my abilities to charm them and make them do what I wanted. And bloodlust wouldn't be too much of an issue because I could now be around humans and not lose control. I smiled smugly. Nothing could stop me now. I was now Anna Marie Giraldez, a thirteen year old girl with infallible skills at charming humans and vampires alike, a vampire myself, only disguised as a human.

Of course, if I encountered another vampire I would be recognized for what I was, but even if I did, it wouldn't be the Cullens because I had no ties and no reason (known to them at least) to go to such a city. Maybe I would finally met Edward there since he was from there so it would make sense that he would be there at some point. It would be interesting to talk to him about all vampiric things. I could see if he could read my mind. He probably would be able to, and that would make it much easier to tell him my story.

I guess I never really explained why I chose Chicago out of all the big crime-ridden cities? Well, I do have some ties to it. Charlie took me there a few times when I was younger, and I loved it. Just everything about it intrigued me. It was only a bonus that Edward was from there. I didn't really care about what happened to him—why would I?—but it would be interesting to hear what he thought—well, not really _hear _as much as _know_.

Carlisle was being his usual self. Moody, dark, and much too accepting. He wanted to keep me as long as possible because he finally realized that I was going to leave and that I was drinking human blood. He wanted to send me off with the idea that hunting humans was wrong. Like that would work.

I had a television in my room now, and I decided to watch Interview With A Vampire again, trying to fill up some of my spare time. I honestly did love the movie, and I had seen Queen of the Damned when it came out too, though it was completely butchered. It was nothing like the book at all, unlike Interview With A Vampire, where the screenplay was actually written by Anne Rice.

I pressed play and watched as the movie played on the screen, weaving around the San Francisco streets up to an apartment building. The boy reporter and Louis began to speak to each other, Louis beginning to explain to the boy (Daniel) that he was a vampire. It fascinated me how close Anne Rice was with the description of vampires. Hard, pale, intellectual (well, most of us). The list went on and on. The only difference was that not all vampires could read minds, our eyes were either red or gold (for the weirdo vegetarians), we didn't sleep in coffins, and we didn't have fangs. Though it would be really cool if we did. Oh, and we could go out in the sun without being burned. I guess that is a lot of differences, but she's the closest to getting it right that I've seen so far.

Louis's voice caught my attention as he began to speak again. It was fortunate that I had another copy of this movie already packed up for when I left.

"What can I do to put you at ease?" Louis's soft voice floated to me from the TV set. "Shall we begin like David Copperfield? I am born, I grow up. Or shall we begin when I was born to darkness as we call it. That's really where we should start, don't you think?"

"You're not lying to me, are you?" Daniel's voice quavered.

"No..."

At times, I felt like I admired Louis. What he had been through. But then it would come crashing down on me that he was a fictional character. My story was the real one. Not his.

I wish I could do what he did—tell my story to a human, just to get it out. No more of an objective view than a human's. At least they were more objective than vampires.

"...1791—that's the year when it happened. I was twenty-four—younger than you are now... But times were different then. I was a man at that age. The master of a large plantation just south of New Orleans..."

Oh, how I desired a life like Louis's! How I desired to be a vampire like him. Human, so utterly so that he wouldn't kill humans willingly. He could feel their emotions, understand their thoughts. It would be nice if I could be like that, such a good (though technically bad) vampire. I was like Lestat in that manner, I cannot be bad at being bad, as Lestat had put it, I suppose. I simply didn't know how. And I could never learn.

But I am so good at being a vampire! Perfect, utterly so.

_Carlisle is who made me what I am. The guilt rests on him and him alone. _

The thought was true. Carlisle changed me, taught me, and tried to mould me into an Edward.

_But what if I don't want to be an Edward? Didn't think of that, did you Carlisle?_

Okay! So _mayb_e I was like him, but I didn't want to _be_ him! _Similar _is okay, _exact_ is not.

_I am me and nothing can change that._

Nothing will ever change that.

My bedroom door creaked open, just as Louis was saying, "My invitation was open to anyone. From the whore at my side to the pimp that followed. Only a vampire took the offer."

I smirked. Perfect timing.

I quickly wiped the smirk off my face as Carlisle pushed the door open far enough to stick his head through. "May I come in, Isabella?"

Ah, there was that hated name again. I appraised him, pretending to think about it when in reality I had already decided to let him come in. This was the moment I was waiting for! I, being the typically vain and selfish vampire that I was, didn't want to go out without a bang and some firecrackers. I would _make_ Carlisle understand the gravity of his mistake. I would _make_ him regret the day that he had decided for me whether or not I would be a vampire! And I had just the perfect plan for it too.

I smiled pleasantly at him, waving for him to come in while lifting the remote to turn the T.V. volume to 'Mute.' Oh, he would definitely regret the day he made that decision for me.

I knew he couldn't see past my beautiful façade that I only meant the best for him. His complete and utter obliviousness to my plan would make my victory even sweeter. While I plotted within my own head, Carlisle sat down on the couch, looking at the TV as Lestat changed Louis into a vampire. "Ah, this movie again? You must have memorized both it and the book by now." Though his words sounded harmless enough, the tone in his voice was of well-suppressed annoyance (that didn't escape me like it would of other vampires) and exasperation as he turned to face me.

As I looked into those hated topaz eyes and at his twenty-three year old face, all whispers of doubt directed towards my plan vanished. This son of a gun had effectively ruined my life. I was soulless and evil. And I couldn't end my existence because even if I broke the Volturi's laws, they would not kill me but make me a slave, my gift was too useful. A vampire could lie through their thoughts if they knew a mind-reader was present. But no one could ever lie to me. I would know. No one would dare try to kill me. And to add insult to injury, he had left me defenseless in a world where you couldn't support yourself properly until you looked at least eighteen. I was lucky to get fifteen and a half, if that. I would be forever dependent on another person; something that I was sure hadn't escaped my dear _father's_ knowledge.

This S.O.B. was going _down._

I smiled at him, looking the perfect picture of innocence and nonchalance. "But Carlisle, it is such a _good_ movie. I personally think that Anne Rice was on something when she was still an Atheist and openly insulting Catholicism in her books."

Carlisle sighed, the Angelic priest for all he was worth. He _still _had that old cross from nearly four hundred years ago hanging up on the wall in the hallway. "I believe we could debate this matter for centuries and still not have reached a conclusion liked by the other. Either way, this is not why I came. I wish to speak with you about your habits."

I just barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. The eating habits again? Really, Carlisle needed to get a different hobby other than annoying me. But this would work to my advantage, no matter how much of a nuisance it was. "Oh, Carlisle, my habits? Could that not wait until after we hunt? I must say, I am quite thirsty."

My tone was airy and carefree, and I did mental summersaults as Carlisle fell for my trap hook, line, and sinker. Grinning, he stood swiftly and offered his hand out for me to take. I brushed it off and stood on my own, unnaturally graceful on my feet. It was also something that—though nice since I was unbearably clumsy as a human—unnerved me. I suppose it did help that I was so graceful my prey were entranced by each movement I made, but after fifteen years of being so clumsy it should have been a sin, it was a change of pace to be like this. Even after so many months, I was still getting used to it.

"This'll be _wonderful!_ I heard from the officers at the Station that they're having some problems with bears lately, mountain lions too. I believe Esme will want to come as well," he added as an afterthought.

NO! No, no, no, no, no! Esme couldn't come! It would ruin _EVERYTHING!_ Everything that I had worked so hard for and planned for so long! All down the drain. She couldn't come, she couldn't. If my plan was to work, she couldn't be there! For an instant, for just one instant, my façade of happiness and calm slipped, revealing my true emotions of panic and momentary fear. But that instant was all it took for Carlisle to see through me.

"Are you alright Isabella?"

I just barely stopped myself from flinching and turned to him, façade back up and smiling. "Oh, me? I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Carlisle shook his head. "You seemed...panicked?" It came out as a question.

I smiled even wider and looked straight into his eyes, thinking that I was incredibly lucky I could now lie so convincingly. "No, no. I'm fine. Let us go hunt." Cringing mentally, I put my hand on his elbow to guide him toward the staircase. Carlisle wouldn't move, not convinced. Mentally preparing myself for what I had to do, I continued, "Don't worry _father_," I let out a small sigh of air as the word passed my lips. I didn't even call my biological father that. "All is well. I just thought that maybe we could go hunting alone this time. You know, just us. Some father-daughter bonding time, if you will. I realize that I haven't been the most..._accommodating_, as of late." There, the master's move of two birds with one stone. Even if it nearly killed me to call him that _lovely_ (note my sarcasm) endearing term that he _so _didn't deserve, it would add to the prize at the end of the game. I absolutely loved playing with Carlisle's mind. Yes, this would make it so much better.

Carlisle looked...touched, if that was the word for it. He smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder in a very fatherly way. I had to struggle not to retch. It would not bode well for my plan if I lost control of my façade again. Clasping my hands before me to keep them from shaking with rage and hurt, I looked down, playing the part of one regretting what they had done in the past. My hair covered my face, hiding the triumphant sneer that spread across my face as Carlisle's thoughts went through my mind. How he was so proud of his beautiful daughter for making the right decision about food and what a good person I was. It was sickening.

What happened next though didn't reach my mind until it was too late for me to avoid it. Carlisle's arms wrapped around me in a bone-crushing hug, pulling me to his chest. I tensed up, not expecting it, but then forced myself to relax. I wouldn't get anywhere seeming like I had lied the entire night.

The side of my face was pressed against his right shoulder, the top of my head tucked under his chin as he sighed. It crossed my mind as I listened to his intentions, knowing what even he himself hadn't yet realized, that he might actually, vaguely, love me. Somewhere deep within his mind, and it frightened me for several, unbearable moments. No one loved me, no one ever did. Charlie loved Renee, and who Renee loved changed day to day, even if for those several months before I died it was focused on that bastard Phil.

I brushed it off; he would soon realize that I wasn't worth it, that he should have let me be. He didn't love me as anything except a replacement.

At last Carlisle released me and I backed up, keeping my distance but at the same time staying close. If my act was going to be believable, I would have to be careful and seem like I actually cared if something happened to him.

I smiled at Carlisle, vindictive thoughts running through my head as I asked, "Shall we go now? I really am thirsty." It wasn't really a lie, I was thirsty, but not for what he thought I was. Animals are, simply put, _disgusting_.

Carlisle smiled right back at me, and together we went downstairs. Nearly everyone was gone; all the "kids" at school, and Esme was in the kitchen cleaning. Carlisle said a quick goodbye to her and then swept me out the door.

Running was one of the few things that I didn't hate about being a vampire. It was the only true carefree feeling that I could experience. The wind on my face and in my hair, the _whooshing_ sound it made in my ears. It was nice, and helped me to figure out exactly what I was going to say to the man running beside me. Of course, as a newborn vampire I was much faster and stronger than him, but I made my speed match his more out of need to start my plan than out of courtesy.

As soon as I was sure we were out of hearing range of the house, I turned on him.

I could imagine the way I looked to Carlisle as his eyebrows rose and he gave me a quizzical look. I must have seemed agitated and more than a little furious. And I could _feel_ the malice glinting in my eyes. Up until now, I hadn't realized just _how much_ I hated Carlisle. His innocent yet curious gaze ignited a fire within me, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

Carlisle's eyes widened, suddenly realizing that all was not as it seemed between us. Fear flashed in his eyes, and he turned, trying to flee what he thought was death. I sneered, rushing around to block him from leaving, thrusting out my hand. Carlisle flew backwards as his struck my hand, landing flat on his back as he hit the mossy ground and left a sizable crater in the earth. I heard the air whoosh from his lungs, momentarily stunned. I stalked over to him. There was no way I was going to kill him. I wanted to make him suffer—make him suffer for his mistake and I couldn't do that if he was dead. No, I wanted to destroy him. Leave his heart in so many broken pieces that he couldn't hope to ever have it repaired.

He struggled to stand, disoriented from the blow. I planted my foot on his chest, easily pinning him down. His eyes flickered up to meet mine and I laughed, a cruel laugh that echoed around the forest, so loud that it startled several animals into a run that hadn't already fled when we had appeared. And as I laughed, Carlisle just stared at me, a look of wide-eyed fright similar to a deer caught in the headlights in his eyes. Malice filled my voice as I finally stopped laughing and turned to him.

"Did you honestly think that I loved you?"

The words made him flinch, and I knew that he thought that I had. I laughed again.

"Then you are a fool. An old, incompetent fool." I sneered, pleased as I started to see his carefully constructed world shatter before his very eyes. He was remembering Edward, remembering the pain of him leaving. I would make sure the memory of that pain was like a paper cut compared to what was I was going to do to him.

"Oh, Carlisle, Carlisle, Carlisle," I sighed, sounding somehow wistful and angry at the same time. "Did you really think that I was _that_ naïve? That I didn't have a power?" Carlisle's eyes widened and a choking sound came from his throat.

"You—you—have a p-power…" he trailed off, horror in his eyes as he realized just how much I knew.

"Oh, yes, Carlisle. A power so wondrous and yet annoying at the same time. You see, I _know_ things. I know that you suffer everyday because of the bronze-haired vampire named Edward that left you, I know that you changed me to be his replacement, and I know that you are terrified that I will kill you." I smirked at him, and he shivered. "I know things that you can't even dream of."

"That—that day in my office—when you brought up Edward—"

"Yes, Carlisle," I said, already knowing where his thoughts were leading him, "I did it to hurt you."

"Why?" he gasped.

"Why?" I echoed, my voice rising to fill the forest again. "Why?! Because you are a sick, sadistic bastard, that's why! You changed me to make me into _Edward!_ You changed me _against my will!_" I screamed, fury filling my voice as I pressed down hard on his chest with my foot. Carlisle's bones started to creak under the pressure and he grimaced. But instead of releasing him, I only pressed down harder. The sight of him in pain gave me the satisfaction I was looking for.

"You sick, sadistic—" Carlisle couldn't finish the sentence. He couldn't say the word.

"You are weak," I said in a low, dangerous voice. "You are no father of mine." Carlisle's eyes widened more as I read his mind about me being his daughter, me being his mistake that he needed to fix. "I will leave you. I will go, and feed on humans and do as I wish. And you will not stop me." I released him, knowing that at that very moment, his world was shattering. The pain he was experiencing was enough to make him curl into a ball, weak and pathetic looking in this state. It was enough for me. The thought of me killing humans was destroying him, making him think that he had failed as a father and as a teacher. I turned to go, not caring what happened to him now, when he stood and grabbed my arm. I whirled around, fury racing through my veins. How _dare_ he?! How dare he touch _me!_

"Isabella, please—"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" I positively roared. I could hear birds and animals from several miles away twittering and fleeing in fear. "YOU KNOW NOTHING OF ME! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME?!" I yanked my arm free of his grasp, pushing him back away from me. He fell to his knees before me, eyes full of invisible tears.

"No, Isa—"

I cut him off, raising my hand to strike him. "Go to hell."

My hand came down, inches from his face when something hard and strong grabbed my arm, holding it back. I spun around, red eyes seeking the being that had stopped me from hitting the hated man before me.

I came face to face with a nightmare, for it really was a nightmare version of Edward Anthony Masen.

_I'm so sorry guys! I've been grounded so it wasn't until now that I was able to update. Don't hate me! This chapter was really hard for me to write so if it's not that good, I apologize. I'm going to be updating Death Isn't So Sweet next, and thanks to my friend Once.Upon.A.December.01 (Mariana) who told me to get my ass to a computer and type! Also to my boyfriend who helped me with this chapter. Now, review and tell me what you think!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	10. The Taunting of Vampires

Chapter Ten:

Chapter Ten:

The Taunting of Vampires

May 31, 2004—Edward Anthony Masen

The blood of my human victim pulsed through me, his murderous thoughts still running through my mind. He had wanted to kill that little blonde girl on the corner walking home from school. I had stopped him. It was a simple enough concept: The predator hunting and killing the prey. The vampire stalking and murdering the human before he could harm another living soul. Yet it still brought disgust and self-loathing to me as I thought about it. Something about it was still wrong, so utterly and inexcusably wrong. He was a murderer, a man that had wanted to do things with that little girl of eight years that no young girl should ever have to experience. And yet, I still couldn't shake it from my mind that he was still a human—no matter how corrupted he was—and by doing what I had, I was no better than him.

I had tried hunting animals again, but I couldn't do it. I had no motivation to be good while on my own, which is why I had been seeking out Carlisle and Esme, to apologize profusely to and hope they would take me back in. There was no way that I could have a conscience and stop murdering unless there were others to help me in my times of need.

It had taken several long, tedious years of searching, again and again sorting through dates and the names of the many different cities that Carlisle had moved to over the past eight decades. And every four or so years he would move again, resume a different position, and I would have to start anew all over again. So many mentions of him in public records that it took four years to finally locate him in Forks, Washington. With only his name and the address that I had taken off the job application that I had stolen from the local hospital, I had gone to the enormous white house he lived in only to discover it empty and full of dust. The scents of several unfamiliar vampires had reached my nose then, and I knew that Carlisle had yet again moved on after only a few months.

_But why? _my brain had asked as I left the great white house, dejected once again. _Why would he move again?_ It had only been a few months, and Carlisle always stayed until the humans started to get suspicious of his young appearance. So, why?

I traveled again for another month--in a vain attempt to locate him once again--before I got another lead that Carlisle was in Canada, his home in the middle of the wilderness. The signs were obvious as I got nearer to where his home should be. They stared me coldly in the face. All the usual signs of an animal drinker were in the woods, relatively recently dug graves for dead and bloodless animals. The scents of the same vampires in Forks were here. Except for one. This one scent was the newest smelling and positively _reeked_ of human blood, old and being burned up. The scent of a new vampire. But something was wrong about it, it smelled of fresh human blood too, something I could only pick out because of my long years of being around human drinkers, something that Carlisle would have never recognized or even realized was there.

It was in the town too, the smell of the same vampire.

And yet, despite the blood I could smell mixed in with the scent, it was beautiful.

Freesias, and strawberries, and the unmistakable sweet scent of a vampire. It was the best thing that I had ever smelled in my entire existence, and I wanted more.

I followed it to a large Victorian-style house, but the scent didn't stop there. It intermingled with Carlisle's, the two scents extremely fresh—as if they had just left the house only a few minutes before. I wondered if Carlisle realized that there was a human drinker among his family as I followed the scent, leaving the new house that Esme had renovated along with the other vampires that had joined Carlisle's make-shift family.

The clouds rolled in the sky, a storm was coming—that much was clear. The wind started to howl and pushed the scent around, making it fainter as I tried to follow it and went in circles in the effort to find the source of it. I had lost the trail and was just starting to lose hope of finding the scent again when a gust of wind blew it right into me, nearly knocking me over with the intensity of the sweet female vampire's aroma. This was nothing like smelling it as it faded with the wind, no! This was better, so much better.

I took off after it, determined to get to the source of the smell. The wind tousled my hair, icy cold to any normal person, but I wasn't any normal person. I relished in the sensation of flying as I ran with the dead man's blood rushing through me, being absorbed. I would see Carlisle again, and Esme. My parents. I knew Carlisle was hurt by our fight but it was worse for me, I had to live with the fact that I had hurt my father so much by my simple decision to change diet.

But Carlisle got his wish—he got a family after so many years of longing for a companion to join him in his journey through time. He had what he deserved after so many years of sacrificing himself to help others, going against our very nature by feeding on animals and being a doctor.

And I would get to meet the new vampire in Carlisle's now large coven. I wanted to meet her. I smiled at the thought. For some reason I felt an inexplicable attraction to her, though I had only inhaled her scent and had not even seen her, let alone met her. It was something so new, but I was willing to embrace it. Why couldn't I be happy? I had spent over one hundred years alone, so why could I not have someone who was my significant other, or even a close friend?

Carlisle's thoughts reached me, a faint whisper that continued to grow stronger and louder as I neared his position. The other vampire was with him, the female. From the hazy view I got of her through his thoughts, she was small and a little younger than me with dark silky hair. An angel.

I began to rush forward to the scent that belonged to the angel stuck on earth, but that's when I heard it. A muffled _boom_ as the sound of stone on stone resounded, and a small, almost unintelligible cry of pain entered the air. The sound of a vampire colliding with another vampire. I froze, completely shocked as a loud, menacing laugh filled the forest, the sound of bells and chimes, yet scary and alarming at the same time. The voice that belonged to the angel.

And then she spoke for the first time, and I couldn't believe my ears as I heard what she said, causing so much pain to Carlisle with the beautiful voice that directed so much hate towards him. So much hate that it hurt me to hear it coming to me through the trees, even though it was not directed at me. "Did you honestly think that I _loved_ you?"

Carlisle's thoughts screamed in agony as those words tore through him, cutting him to pieces as his mind made sense of the words. He had believed that she loved him.

The angel, or demon, or the being that I hopelessly wanted to be with, sneered, "Then you are a fool. An old, incompetent fool."

This was wrong, so very wrong. Never should a voice so beautiful yet so full of hate come from an angel, and yet here it was. The voice was twisted in hatred but somehow it made it even more horrifyingly exquisite. How could she hurt Carlisle like that? Her thoughts were coming as a blank to me, I knew she was there but I couldn't hear her as she continued to torture Carlisle with words. And I couldn't move, no matter how much I wanted to. I wanted to save Carlisle—he had experienced enough pain and misery in his life, he needed no more. But this girl seemed determined to give it to him and all I could do was stand there, dumbstruck, as she prolonged Carlisle's anguish.

"Oh, Carlisle, Carlisle, Carlisle," she sighed, her voice wistful and laced with barely contained fury. "Did you honestly think that I was_ that_ naïve?" she stressed. "That I didn't have a power?"

Carlisle choked as his mind went into a flurry of thought. I could hear him as he reflected on what he had believed in the past, that this girl—Isabella—had no power, that he had treated her like any other vampire. And I heard how he changed her. She, like me, had been dying. She, like me, had the Spanish Influenza. That she, like me, had been too far gone to save. And that she, also like me, had been changed to be a companion. Only she was to be a replacement for me. A child to help get through being a vampire and to teach to be good. Carlisle's thoughts went into overdrive as he remembered exactly how it had been with me when I had finished the change and laughed at the idea of vampires, the exact same thing she had done and that we were the only two vampires he knew that had laughed at the news.

She wasn't similar to me. She was almost exactly like me, something that Carlisle had failed to notice after he had changed her, or well, noticed but didn't think too much about. He had focused on her similar circumstances and attitude towards the world, not the outcomes of her decisions, such as the one to leave and drink humans.

And then what she had just said hit him and his mind froze in horror. _She has a power. She knows _everything_._

_But what was everything?_ I wondered.

"Oh, yes, Carlisle. A power so wondrously useful and yet so annoying at the same time. You see, I _know_ things. I know that you suffer every day because of the bronze-haired vampire named Edward that left you," I winced as I realized exactly _how much_ pain I had caused in my absence, "I know that you changed me to be his replacement, and I know that you are terrified that I will kill you."

All those things were true to some extent in Carlisle's eyes. But he believed she had spun it all out of proportion and had focused more on the fact that he had changed her because she reminded him of me rather than on the fact that he actually did love her, despite her beliefs. It struck me then that this angel, Isabella, was afraid of love.

"I know things you can't even dream of," she hissed, and Carlisle shivered from the undisguised power in her voice. It emanated through my mind as he spluttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

"That—that day in my office—when you brought up Edward—"

I saw and heard the day he was speaking of as clearly as if I were there when she had entered his office and seemingly inadvertently brought up the subject of me and who I was, as Carlisle realized that she had already known everything. Her next words were spoken as if she was talking about the weather, full of faux kindness and sounding just like how a person would tell a little child that two plus two equaled four, not three.

"Yes, Carlisle, I did it to hurt you."

My mind roared in protest as Carlisle's world shattered. "Why?" he gasped, thoughts empty of everything but that single word.

"Why?" she echoed, fury returning to her voice in full force, it rising to fill the air. "Why?!" she roared. "Because you are a sick, sadistic bastard, that's why!" I had to disagree a little. Out of the two of them, she was the one being the most sadistic, not him. "You changed me to make me into _Edward!_ You changed me _against my will!_" she screamed, and I could almost see Carlisle's grimace as she pressed the foot that she had been using to pin him down harder and his ribs started to creak from the pressure being exerted on them. Carlisle's mind flashed to when she was first changed and had told him she wanted to die. Now he understood that she had not forgiven him at all, but simmered for more than nine months about it instead, plotting a way to get revenge. That she had not been crying because she was sad and willing to forgive him, but instead because she was enraged.

Even as he had tried to avoid the same 'mistake' of not helping her along he had made with me, he had inadvertently made another one. He had ignored the broodiness and self-loathing that I'd had for myself in the years following my change. Only her reaction was worse than mine. Much, much worse.

"You sick, sadistic—" Carlisle began, but he couldn't finish. Isabella waited patiently for a few moments for him to say the word that we both knew he wanted to say but couldn't: the word _bitch_.

Her voice turned low and dangerous in an instant. "You are weak," she finally said. "You are no father of mine." Carlisle's thoughts became pained filled. "I will leave you," she continued. "I will go, and feed on humans and do as I wish. And you will not stop me."

I saw through Carlisle's mind as she turned to leave, clearly satisfied with the devastated wreck of what _used_ to be Carlisle Cullen.

But suddenly Carlisle lunged forward, latching onto her arm with a vice-grip in an attempt to keep her from leaving. Isabella was his world, the thing that had kept him going the past several months and he didn't want her to leave, no matter how much pain she had caused him. "Isabella, please—"

I suddenly unfroze when she whirled back on him, screeching at the top of her lungs in fury. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" she roared as I sprinted through the trees, trying to get there before something happened. Something that was bad. I wanted to be near this once angel, but I had to protect Carlisle from even more hurt. He was my first loyalty, the one who was my sire, my father.

The trees were thinning, a clearing just barely visible through the trees, and Isabella continued to yell at Carlisle in that voice that was hers and yet not hers at the same time. "YOU KNOW NOTHING OF ME! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME?!" I could just see them through the trees, two white figures, one on his knees in the forest while the other was violently yanking her arm free of the man on his knees. Carlisle.

I put on an extra burst of speed, getting even nearer as Carlisle's saddened voice begged, "No, Isa—"

She cut him off. "Go to hell," she said, enunciating each word carefully. Her arm came up, and in an instant I knew what she was going to do. I growled—as much as I cared for this creature (though I didn't quite understand why), she had gone too far.

In the last moment before her hand came in contact with the side of Carlisle's face, I reached her. Thrusting my hand out, I wrapped my fingers around her forearm and stopped it from striking Carlisle.

She spun around to face me, bright red eyes furious and seeking the being that had stopped her from completing her quest for vengeance. Her already ashen features paled even more as she came face to face with me, and I was sure I was quite the sight with my eyes black-red from a combination of the blood and the fury coursing through me, my hair windswept and my gaze cold.

She was devastatingly beautiful, Isabella. Her hair was chocolate brown and silkily long and her pale features were highlighted by her round face and widow's peak along with fine-looking cheekbones. She was also very petite, probably only five foot three or five foot four, almost a full foot shorter than me. But even more stunning were her eyes, scarlet red in color, and big and wide. But what got me was the depth in them, the absolute amount of emotion showed in them.

Anger, pain, betrayal, self-loathing, fear, and—above all—hope. A hope for the future.

* * *

Carlisle Cullen

Edward was here. My Edward was here. With me, with all of us. He had returned. He wanted to be part of my family again. The hole that was in my heart from when he had left was already healing, and the one from Isabella was starting to go away. If Edward was here, everything would be okay. He would convince her to stay.

I remembered how, on the first day of her being a vampire she had said she thought she had no soul. Was that why she had done all this? Because she was afraid she had no soul? I remembered Edward's words he had used to justify his actions before he had left.

_If I'm going to be damned, I might as well do it thoroughly._

But Edward was here now. I sighed in relief; things would get better now that he was here. He could meet the others.

I glanced up, watching as he stared intently at Isabella and knew that he knew most of the important details of what had happened the last few months, whether he heard it from my mind or hers.

Isabella turned her full attention to Edward and I could have sworn she had a heart attack, which would have required her heart to start beating again—_that_ was how shocked she was.

I couldn't move as I watched the scene before me unravel.

* * *

Isabella Marie Swan

I froze, a multitude of emotions passing through me as my brain comprehended exactly who was in front of me.

Edward Masen!

What the hell was he doing here? And why did he just stop me from hitting this vile man before me? This was wrong, all wrong. Edward shouldn't be here, and yet for some reason I was glad he was. He was even more beautiful than I had first believed, his hair tousled and his square jaw set in determination. His features contorted in fury, and I was suddenly afraid. Whatever the reason he was here now defending Carlisle was not good for me. I tried to pull my arm from his grasp, but he didn't let go.

The wind started to howl and blow, the trees sweeping in the gust created. The leaves rustled loudly and the branches knocked against one another, creating a racket that continued to grow louder as the clouds rumbled and lightening began to flash in the sky.

Carlisle's sobs reached me faintly through the din, but they were less pain filled now than before. Then I realized it, Edward was returning to Carlisle to become an animal drinker again. That would be the only reason he would come back, and I suddenly started laughing at the hilarity of it all.

While I had been plotting to leave, Edward had been trying to find his sire. My master plan that I had believed to be near fool-proof had failed, collapsing upon itself when it was almost complete, simply because of this handsome, young vampire opposite me. It was too much—my plan had been foiled by the seemingly insignificant vampire before me, with next to no effort on his part.

The whole time I had been laughing, Edward had just been watching me, waiting for me to calm down. But I couldn't, this was too much. Lightning crackled over us again and thunder boomed loudly overhead. A storm was coming, both literally and figuratively, because Edward's eyes were just as cold as the coming storm. He was angry, furious even, and he was about to lose control. His red-black eyes danced with the emotional turmoil within his mind.

Finally, I had myself under some amount of control, and now I was angry. I had been counting on his hate toward Carlisle for everything to work, but instead he had come back and ruined _everything!_ Now what would I do? I could not remain here, not after my confession, the revealing of my true feelings, but I could not leave now that _darling_ Edward had come back to his master like the golden retriever he really was.

"Are you done now?"

His words were cold, but his eyes betrayed his true emotions.

I was disgusted as I recognized the familiar feelings of love and hope and fading hate. I tried to pull my arm from his, but his grip was too tight. If I had been human, I would have lost feeling in my arm by now. "Let go of me," I snarled, my fury only growing as he pretended that I hadn't even said the words, though I knew that he had heard them very clearly.

"Well?"

His indifferent tone caused me to roar and push at his chest with my free hand with all my might, but he didn't budge, despite the fact that I knew it was a very powerful shove, one that would have sent Emmett to the ground easily along with his ego. But Edward had fresh human blood in his system, something that even I lacked at the moment, so he was temporarily stronger than I.

"You had your fun, little Edward Masen. Can I not have mine? Release me," I ordered, though he paid it no heed. If anything, his grip tightened.

"Fun? Is that what this is to you? Fun? Some game to play until it either gets too boring or you win? Is it?" He growled, shaking me.

I smiled a sinister look that reached my eyes, as the corner of my mouth lifted in response. A look that I knew screamed _predator_.

Abruptly, my face turned innocent, something that I knew disconcerted Edward immensely. He grew uneasy with me, though he would not show it. "Why, of course, little Edward Masen. Why else would I do it? This man has damned me to a life of loneliness and hate. Should I not return the favor? Is it not my right to do so?" I questioned. Edward's face turned stony.

"You have no right. Carlisle has tried to help you."

I laughed again, my voice ringing in my ears and around the clearing. "Carlisle tried to make me into you," I mocked, jabbing his chest with my finger. "A replacement. I know you can read minds, little Edward. I know you heard his thoughts. And you heard mine. You know our stories."

Edward's brow furrowed, his grip tightened on my arm yet again. The waves of frustration clearly rolled off him, and I suddenly realized something that made me burst into fits of demented giggles all over again. "You can't read my mind," I taunted, sounding beyond gleeful, which I was. "You can't read my mind," I ridiculed. "Ha," I said, smirking, my voice choked with the amount of amusement I found in the situation yet again. "You, the knower of all, can't read a simple girl's mind. You can't even see the truth—," suddenly I was cut off as Edward's hand appeared out of nowhere, one moment at his side, the next wrapped around my neck as he lifted me from the ground. Good, I had made him angry.

I still managed to laugh at him as he tried to throttle me, ignoring Carlisle's weak pleas for him to stop. Both his hands wrapped around my neck in a desperate attempt to silence me. "I'm not one of your human victims, little Edward," I choked out in a voice full of mania. "You can't silence me," I squeezed out. I was trying to irk him, and it was working. And the best part was that he didn't even realize it. "Who'd ya kill to get the blood in your system right now, Edward? Was it was little girl? Did she squeal when you strangled the life out of her small body—?" He slammed me into a thick tree, hands still tight around my throat. I knew very well that he had killed the man who wanted the little girl, instead of her, but we both knew that he had really wanted her, the blood of an innocent.

My face would have been red by now and my lips starting to tinge blue if I were human, but I wasn't, so I instead enjoyed the rage that filled his face, his hands trying to crush the life out of me. "Or was it the young boy who walked after her, after you killed the sex offender? Maybe just a little snack to get the vile taste of villain out of your mouth?" I had run out of air, and I slowly sucked in some more to continue. "Tell me, did you enjoy it? Did you like the taste of the boy's blood? We both know you slipped—you couldn't help yourself. And his cries for his mummy and daddy—were those satisfying too?"

A roar of rage, similar to that of a mountain lion's, came from his lips as he yanked me down from against the tree and pinned me to the ground, causing a large dent to appear as we landed. His eyes were wide, furious, his hair fell forward into his eyes, but he didn't dare move his hand to push it back, less he lose leverage on me. His body straddled my waist, a knee on each side of my hips. I grinned, and suddenly he realized that this was all a game to me, nothing but a way for me to get satisfaction from the fact that I had infuriated him, the controlled one, and the one who rarely lost his temper. It was all a game.

He jumped up, dashing away so that he stood by Carlisle only ten feet away. I sucked in oxygen, though I didn't need it, rubbing my neck where he had gripped it so hard that it had crushed my larynx before it healed quickly upon his release of me. My smirk was malicious as I looked up at him from the little Bella-sized crater he had created. "And you know what is really pathetic?" I told him.

Neither responded, not so much as a nod in my direction to indicate that they had heard me, so I continued.

"I was counting on you to _save me from this hell_," I said, keeping my gaze level on Edward. My eyes bored into his and he flinched, looking quickly away. "I was counting on your hate for _him_," I jerked my head in Carlisle's direction, "to help me get out of here and make him pay. I guess the joke's on me."

Edward glanced at me, an expression of sadness in his eyes. He was sad that I had fallen this far. He felt pity for me. I spat venom from my bitten tongue—the product of Edward's attempts to strangle me—onto the ground, disgusted. "I don't need your pity," I spat, angry. "I don't want it. And I don't want your sadness or grief over 'what I have become.'" I quoted him, knowing that this was the thought that had been going through his mind since he had released me. He jerked, looking straight at me again in shock before it turned to sadness again. He empathized with me that I had to know so much, be the bearer of such knowledge that even he never really heard, the mind reader. People could lie to him through their thoughts, but I knew the absolute truth no matter what.

"It's not what you think," I growled at him. "At least I know when I'm being lied to. At least I can protect myself from plotting little vampires," I mocked him. He didn't take the bait this time, instead turning to Carlisle, who still lay on the ground, and helping him up. Carlisle embraced him, purely happy now that _his_ Edward was back, his darling little son. I felt only a touch of envy for Edward, the loved one out of us two, before I eradicated the very thought of that from my mind. I didn't need love, least of all from _Carlisle_, the creator of my hell.

Carlisle released him, holding him at arms length to examine him. He sighed, relieved and reassured that Edward was there for real this time and to stay. Edward glanced in my direction, at my small, crumpled form still on the forest floor, and then back at Carlisle. In an instant, I knew they meant to take me back to that wretched house, back to those people.

I jumped up, turning on my heel and running in the opposite direction of the house, determined not to go back. I would not, could not! I would not go back to the place of my plotting, back to where a coven of vampires awaited my return. Not back to Alice, who would have told the others some of what had happened by now. I would not face the shame that I had failed.

I knew before Edward had caught up to me that there was no hope for me, that I was going back whether I liked it or not. So it was no surprise to me as Edward launched himself at me from over fifteen yards away, wrapping his arms around my torso and pinning my own arms in place as he locked his hands together and we fell to the ground, rolling a few times before our momentum faded and Edward was able to stand with me pinned to him, my back pressed tight against his chest to prevent me from turning around in his grasp and escaping.

I kicked and twisted, trying to free myself as Edward walked at human speed with me back to where we had left Carlisle not to far back. I really hadn't gotten far before Edward had caught up with me. Carlisle looked down at me with deep sadness in his golden eyes. I spat at his face, snarling as Edward paused to let Carlisle wipe the venom from his face and allowed him to grab my legs. He adjusted his grip on me and then we were off, the wind whistling past us at that flying speed that only we could achieve, though instead of being liberating for me as it usually would have been, it only made me feel more trapped as my prison neared closer and closer.

I still struggled as hard as I could against Edward and Carlisle, but it was no use. So I resorted to screaming and yelling my protests and insults at them as we entered the Cullen's house, the Cullen family staring at me as Carlisle and a strange bronze-haired vampire towed me in through the front door and up the stairs to my room, or more appropriately, my prison cell.

_WHOOT! You guys all rock! This story has 200 reviews; 12,835 hits; 66 favorites; and __**152**__ alerts! Gosh, you guys all totally __rock__; give yourself a pat on the back. I'm so excited!_

**Edward&Bella Forever**: Thanks for the review! I'm just sorry I wasn't able to reply personally. I guess I can't say that I'll update soon because I just have, but thanks for the encouragement!

_And thanks to all of the rest of you who reviewed and those who didn't, even though I strongly encourage you to drop a review ;)! You guys totally encouraged me to write this chapter! I hope I got back to all of you, and if I didn't I'm sorry!_

_Thanks also to my beta__** Jimita**__ for editing this tremendously long chapter (for this story, anyway) and having such a large amount of patience with me while I was writing it. You rock!_

_By the way, the whole DocX thing is extremely annoying. If you trust the person enough to have them beta for you and to communicate with them, you might as well exchange e-mails and do it that way. I mean, most of us already have our e-mails available for people to see on our accounts, right? _

_Also I just learned about this website. It's called www (dot) FreeRice (dot) com. It's a vocabulary website and for each vocab word you get correct, the UN World Food Program donates 20 grains of rice to help end hunger in other countries. If you all could just go and check out the site, that would be awesome. There's no need for e-mails or anything. Sponsors of the website pay for the rice donated. You might save a child from starvation._

_Now, review please!_

_Signed,_

_V.H._


	11. A Painting of a Girl

Chapter Eleven:

The Painting of a Girl

Two Weeks Later

June 14, 2004—Edward Anthony Masen Cullen

It had been two, long, very difficult weeks since Carlisle and I had brought Isabella back forcibly to the house. The beautiful Victorian house, which was usually filled with activity of some sort, was dead silent, quieter than the grave. A true house of vampires.

No one wanted to speak, afraid that admitting the truth would make it seem real. They were all in shock that Isabella would do—or attempt to do—such a thing to Carlisle, or to any of them, really. The fact that they had been mistaken about her was an idea that none of them were willing to accept, even little Alice, the future-seeing pixie that I had now come to think of as a sister of sorts. I found out from her mind that she had seen the majority of Isabella's plan, but had kept it to herself for fear that it would only cause things to escalate. I could see her point and understand why she had done such a thing, even if the others couldn't.

Still, not a single one of them, even Carlisle, could seem to understand the depth of her rage, how violently she hated them. Even I couldn't understand fully since I couldn't read her mind for some odd reason, but I felt that I understood better than any of them. No one but I could really comprehend exactly what she was feeling, something I knew courtesy of Jasper, who could sense and manipulate emotions. When I had first seen Jasper, I had been on my guard, for surely a vampire covered in so many battle scars was dangerous. But I soon came to realize that he was actually quite humble, choosing this life in order to please Alice, his mate, even though it was hard for him after so many long years of feeding from humans.

Emmett had taken an immediate liking to me, going so far as to clap me on the back and give me a near bone-crushing hug when he officially met me. Rosalie had just huffed, her thoughts revealing her to be a very shallow and vain person. She couldn't understand why I had come back after so long of being on my own.

But despite all that was going on, they all still had roles to play in the humans' society. The Cullen 'kids' still had school for another week and then they would be off on break. Carlisle, who worked part-time at the local hospital, took a few days off at first in order to spend some time with Isabella, before he just gave up and simply went back to work each day, planning on taking some time off when the others finished school.

So during the day, it was only Esme, Isabella, and I at the house. Esme was so devastated by what had happened that she rarely did anything other than garden and clean while the others were away. Every time she saw me, she would hug me in relief that I was finally back for good, and then rush off, trying to fight back the tears that would never come as 

she remembered who I had been dragging into the house when she had seen me for the first time in eight decades. I felt bad for her—she had really loved Isabella, even if it seemed that Isabella had not loved her.

But the worst thing, the worst thing by far, was how Isabella was acting now. I knew that she could leave whenever she pleased, so she knew too, but she didn't. The only reason we had brought her back with us was to try to talk to her, and after that she would be free to do as she wished. But she remained unmoving from the window seat we had placed her on two weeks ago when we had brought her back. We had all tried to talk to her, save for Esme (for obvious reasons) and Rosalie, who had never really gotten along with Isabella in the first place. Rosalie was just shocked that Isabella had done what she did. Rosalie had a lingering respect for Carlisle and his choice to abstain from humans that she was astonished Isabella did not have, even if she hated the man that had made her into a being of the undead.

Whenever we had attempted to talk to her, she would just stare at us blankly, never acknowledging that she had heard us; and when we were done speaking she would just go back to staring into space. The only times she moved was to change a CD when she got bored with it or to restart the movie _Interview With A Vampire_ whenever she felt like watching it. It was beyond irking, beyond infuriating, but I had been careful to keep my patience with her, never showing those emotions that her behavior made me feel because that was what she wanted. She wanted to get a rise out at least one of us, especially me.

She wouldn't even move to look at me when I spoke. She would only continue what she had been doing before, ignoring my very presence in the room. It was all a game to her—that much I knew for certain. What type of game I could only guess at along with why she had chosen that particular one. I wished repeatedly while I was both in that horrid room and out of it that I could hear her thoughts, to make some sort of sense of her, but even after hours of wishing so, not a peep was heard. It was as if she wasn't even there, really. Though obviously she was, and thinking very deeply about something.

It amused her though (I could tell because Jasper felt said amusement) that I wished I could understand what exactly was going on inside her head. I had a feeling that that amusement was the only reason she had not stopped her game yet, and instead waited patiently for the end. From Carlisle's thoughts, she was incredibly patient for a newborn in some aspects. She became easily bored with certain everyday things, like television shows and normal books, but focused intently on other things. She would spend hours looking at a picture, analyzing it; she would stare intently at the pages of her Anne Rice novels, as if by looking at it long enough she could decipher some hidden message. Proof of this very fact was the amount of time she had spent playing her last game, devising her plan to leave Carlisle. She had spent more than eight months playing that one.

Another thing I learned was that she painted. Not even the others had realized that she had taken art supplies from the attic until I had seen the edge of a tube of paint sticking out from under a pile of clothes in her closet. I had soon discovered a secret stash of somewhat disturbing paintings and drawings that I had asked her about, though, of 

course, she had never answered, only continuing to stare at her hand as the rare sunlight from outside hit it and shattered into a thousand rainbows that reflected on the walls all around the room.

But what disturbed me about the pictures, were the scenes. They were all violently colored, even the hand-drawn ones—dark colors splashed and splattered onto the canvas, forming intent and strange pictures. Some were hazy and indefinite, while others were crystal clear, no white spot left, no detail left undrawn. Things that normally only a vampire could see leapt out at me from the picture, drawn for anyone who stumbled upon it to see, things no human would think to draw. The pattern of stitches in a shirt, the intricate stitching on the shoes. The divots and blemishes in stones, the painting seeming to convey that they were there because the stone was worn with use, though the surrounding buildings were fresh, new. But they all seemed—strange as it sounded—to show some sort of emotion, all of them.

Though a picture was clear as glass, an underlying theme was in it, a hidden meaning. One picture, at first glance, showed a young girl at the fair, the sun having already set, having a fun time. A balloon was clutched tightly in one hand, and she seemed to be looking over her shoulder at the Ferris Wheel, an expression of longing on her face. The quality of the picture was as good as—if not better than—a photograph.

But as I looked at the picture yet again, really _looked_ at it, I noticed that all the other people in the picture at the fair seemed to have something odd about them. One man had exceptionally sharp and beautiful features; another woman had coal black eyes, despite the fact that her skin was creamy white and her hair blonde. And yet another, only a child, had skin snow white and flawless, quite unlike the other fun-goers who all had some sort of blemish on their skin—a beauty mark, a scratch, a scar.

And then it seemed as if the entire picture had changed, though in reality nothing had. The girl was no longer looking over her shoulder in longing at the Farris Wheel, but with fear at the shadows under an awning just directly behind her. The statue of a young woman that stood there was no longer a statue, but a person who was glaring maliciously at the girl. The girl's mother, who had appeared to be loosely holding hands with the little girl was no longer, instead she was losing her grip on the girl's fingers, losing the girl in the crowd. The vendor at a stand of stuff animals was no longer smiling at the little girl with kindness, but instead glaring coldly down at the girl with a stony expression. Even the balloon was escaping, the string slipping out of the girl's fingers and into the sky.

Each bystander had some aspect of a vampire mixed into their appearance, except for the little girl. Even her mother, who I thought had looked normal, had bright, sharp teeth.

The message was clear to me. It sent shivers down my spine as I realized it. The picture showed something that seemed entirely innocent and fun, but underneath was a living nightmare where instead of being surrounded by kind people, you were isolated amongst would-be friends, alone utterly and absolutely, while those people plotted your demise. The little girl was alone in the world the picture created around her, showing the true, 

sinister content of the world around her, though disguised as something non-threatening. It showed that the world really was full of life-sucking vampires, real or not.

As soon as I realized this, I had flung the picture from me, intent on getting it as far away from me as possible. But no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of the image, it kept finding its way into my mind, the image of the little girl staying with me. I slowly came to see that the little girl had brown hair and eyes, a wide face and a small frame. The little girl looked like a miniature, human Isabella.

I had buried the picture in the backyard after that, not able to bring myself to burn it, no matter how much I wanted to. And Isabella had watched calmly from her upstairs window, face emotionless, as I had done so. That had been two days ago. I hadn't been to see her since.

Deep within my mind, I realized that something was wrong with Isabella. Such things she created, such emotions that she felt within, and they were so strong. Her emotions were violent, angry, hateful, furious. Her pictures reflected that, and I couldn't help but realize that Isabella was a _genius_—she saw things that other people didn't and found new ways to interpret them. Even without reading her mind, I could tell that her thought process was extremely abstract and complicated. She thought of everything and anything, all at once.

Again, I wished that I could find some way to help her. Soften her. Isabella was afraid of love, love of any kind—I knew this. But what could I do about it? I wanted to help her more than any of the others, even Carlisle. I felt inexplicably drawn to her, like I _had_ to be around her. It all felt so strange, so _new_ to me. I had never depended upon someone other than myself, not even in my human life. And yet, here I was now, _wanting_ to be around her. It was as if gravity had suddenly shifted, so that it was no longer the Earth that held me here and drew me, but _her_. It was all so wrong, so different.

I glanced up at the clock in my room, only two doors down the hall from Isabella's. It told me that it would be only an hour until the rest of the family—excluding Carlisle— would be back from school, which would be at three o'clock.

I sighed to myself, knowing that I couldn't avoid Isabella forever. Someone had to go in there and make sure she was still sane—or, well, as sane as she ever could be. To prolong the inevitable moment that would most likely be my demise, I stood up and straightened my desk, though everything was in place. I moved everything away from the desk and then replaced it in exactly the same spot. I glanced up at the clock again. The digital red numbers flashed that it had only been ten minutes.

Deciding that I couldn't prolong the moment any longer, I moved to my door and opened it, closing the block of wood that really gave no privacy at all behind me. I glanced down at the end of the hall; Isabella's door was still closed. The cross Carlisle's father had carved in the seventeenth century hung upon the windowless dead end. It was incredibly ironic that it hung right next to the once-angel's room. Hilarious.

Slowly, I walked over to the door and rested my hand upon the handle, wondering if I really wanted to do this. Yes, I finally decided after several seconds' debate over the matter. I would have to sooner or later. Sooner was preferable.

The door swung open on silent hinges—though the sound of metal on metal was still perceptible to _my_ ears—and I glided in quietly, closing the door behind me.

Isabella's room was quite bare. The walls were a dark wine red, and an ebony bookshelf stood on the opposite wall with her stereo, holding all of her Anne Rice novels (and other vampire books, though those were less noticeable) and her music CDs. White lace curtains hung from the large window seat set into the right wall, and—if they were thicker—when pulled closed would conceal the occupant of the window seat and the window set itself entirely. A red antique wooden hand-carved couch sat against the left wall and a high backed chair that matched the couch was nestled in the corner to the right of the bookshelf. The carpet was black and plushy. A TV set sat in the corner between the right wall and the wall the door was set upon. As it was, the door was also ebony, like the bookshelf, matching the door to her closet—set in the same wall that held the couch—which then went off into her bathroom. The room itself was beautiful, with an antique feel to it.

My eyes settled on Isabella, who was sitting on the window seat, leaning against one of the three panes of glass that formed the walls of the window seat. Isabella paid no attention to me as I dragged the chair from the corner to where she was sitting and sat on it.

I just stared at her for awhile. She truly was beautiful, devastatingly so, and immortality seemed to suit her. Even with the dark circles under her eyes, her especially pale complexion (now more than ever with the fact that she had not hunted since we had brought her back, refusing the animal blood we offered), and her coal black eyes, she was still gorgeous. A human girl would have killed to have Isabella's looks.

Bella paid me no mind as I sat there watching her. I listened to the music the stereo was playing at the moment, only just realizing that the song was _My Pesticide_ by _The Used_. An interesting choice of music, if I do say so myself.

_Stay in bed and that's another day wasted _

_Colors fade to grey like they never do _

_The whole thing spins _

_And yes you chose_

_To think for only you_

_So pull the pin and let the whole thing go_

_Between that smile and look its embarrassing_

_Sell your soul and let this quite a pleasant poison and it's_

_My life_

_My pesticide_

_Will tell the tide_

_Make it last a long one_

_Its my life_

_But leave this time_

_My pesticide_

_Slow to kill your dreams_

Why did it seem that all her music somehow related to her current situation—or how she saw her current situation? I had to admit that I did feel bad for her. She was only fifteen and stuck in that phase where you're trying to figure out exactly who you are. I couldn't imagine what I would have turned out like if I had been changed at that age instead of seventeen.

I sighed at watched Isabella for any sign of movement when I spoke, not that I expected any change in her usual behavior. So I began to speak of a random human memory that I had, something I often did when visiting. I hoped that if Isabella knew all she could about me, then maybe she would open up.

"You know, I remember some of the strangest things from when I was human," I began, watching her carefully. Not even a twitch. "Once, I remember going to the Carnival with my parents when I was very young, maybe seven or eight. My father had finally decided to use one of his vacation days for us to go out and do something as a family. I remember that I_ begged_ him to take us to the Carnival while it was still in Chicago.

"So we went, and I was awed by this enormous gray-colored creature. I found out it was called an elephant, later on. But the tusks on that elephant simply entranced me…" I continued to describe the memory to her, leaving no detail untold, as I told her about the elephant and the tricks that he did. Not once did she move, her eyes staying trained on the windowsill, and her body as so still, I would have thought it a statue if I didn't know better.

"So, as we were leaving the Carnival," I continued, I was nearing the end now, "I saw something that caught my eye. Nine hand-carved elephants sat on the edge of a stand. They were all beautiful, made from dark ebony and all different sizes, shapes, and poses. A family. My mother managed to convince my father to buy them for me, and for years I had them on top of my dresser. When I became ill with the influenza, I forgot about them until I went back to Chicago a few years later to claim my belongings. Imagine my dismay when I found the elephants to be gone, nothing but rings of dust around where they had rested." I stopped, eyes zeroing in on Isabella's as, unbelievably, they twitched. Just for a moment, less than a sixty-fourth of a second, they had moved to look at me directly before going back to staring at the windowsill.

"So, the elephants were missing?"

I would have missed the movement of her lips if I hadn't been staring at her so intently. I was shocked into silence. She had spoken for the first time in two weeks, and to me no less. How had I managed to do that?

Then the possibility that maybe this was all just part of the game entered my mind, and Isabella's lips twitched in into a brief smile, again gone before I could really register it. But her smile was a confirmation that it all was part of the game. A game that I would unfortunately have to play.

I felt like I was playing a game of poker, only I didn't know what cards I held so I couldn't make a good bet. It was like running blind.

Isabella's lips twitched again, a sign that she knew what I was thinking, as usual. She was enjoying this way too much.

"That is entirely possible," she murmured, pale red lips barely moving. It always startled me when she answered by what she _knew_ instead of what she _heard_. A small laugh escaped her mouth, though she didn't move from her perch on the window seat with her legs drawn up to her chest. "I realize that. But now you, too, realize that it might be 'part of the game,'" she quoted, her lips twitching once again.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, breathless for once.

She grinned, and turned her head to face me. Her eyes were dark and almost feral as she looked at me. "Maybe it'll make it more fun? Maybe I enjoy tormenting you so? You already know that I enjoyed messing with _dear_ Carlisle's mind. Maybe I wanted to try it out on you?" Her voice was sweet, her tone innocent enough, but her eyes told a different story. They were full of trickery and mischief, her mouth pulled up at one corner in a smile. She was a trickster.

"Yes, it seems I am," she mused, eyes never leaving mine. "But, it is all part of the game, remember that? I enjoy playing games."

I was silent, thinking of the possible endings _this_ game might have. She didn't answer that, didn't even move, her grin still in place. It was starting to unnerve me; something I knew amused her as well.

She liked playing games, and I had a lingering suspicion that this one was going to end in her favor, whatever that may be.

Ugh! This was so confusing. For all I knew, she was just leading me on, just letting me think that I had figured it all out so that she could gain her sick sense of amusement from it.

Her face had lost its grinning expression, and was now carefully blank, staring straight ahead out of one of the triple panels of glass that formed the sides of the window seat.

It all went in circles, every side of the game. No matter what I tried to do to prepare for it, I couldn't because I didn't know what game we were playing. This pretty much guaranteed that Isabella would win this particular game.

I sat there just watching her for awhile, watching her watching the ground outside. Her eyes were trained on one spot, though where that spot was I couldn't see from my position on the chair.

My eyes were drawn from her face and to her body, noticing for the first time what she was wearing.

A simple red linen dress, the same red on the walls, adorned her small and curved figure. The red contrasted brilliantly with her dark hair and pale skin, the wrap-around v-neck accentuating her collarbone, though no necklace hung from her neck. I was only mildly surprised that her neck lay bare. Every woman in the Cullen family had a thin silver chain from which dangled the Cullen family crest just below their collarbones, and they all wore it. The men (including me) had a medallion with the crest on it that hung from our necks on long silver chains that were easily hidden by our shirts on most occasions. It didn't really surprise me that Isabella had chosen not to wear hers. She didn't consider herself a part of the family.

My eyes continued to the wide red sleeves that covered her arms to her elbows and to her hands folded neatly in her lap. My gaze traveled down her frame, seeing how the tie around her waist showed off her thin middle, and then to her legs. The dress was just above knee-length, her right leg (and also the closest one to me) stretched out straight, the toes pointed forward like a ballerina. Her left leg was bent at a right angle, the fabric of the dress bunched up a few inches above her knee.

The overall effect was enchanting.

She looked like a goddess incarnate, with her delicate, translucent skin and perfect body. Features as beautiful as—if not more so than—a goddess. How could I, a demon, a being cursed to burn in hell for all eternity, be attracted to her?

She flinched, a movement that would have escaped my notice had I not been gazing at her so intently. Her eyes flickered to me and back to the window so fast I wasn't entirely sure that she had even moved.

I just continued to stare at her, watching as her eyes glazed over and a far-away look entered her eyes, and I knew that she wasn't paying attention to anything that I was thinking. I took that moment to think about feelings toward her without her knowing.

It was so painfully obvious, even to me, that I was attracted to Isabella. Normally, I would have rejected that thought as erroneous, completely false and wishful thinking. But I had been alone and dependent on no one but myself for too long to believe that any more. The only problem now was convincing Isabella of this attraction.

It was clear to me that Isabella would believe I was lying the moment I told her I liked her as more than a friend or a family member. She didn't believe in love, thought of it as fictional and a weakness to those it did ever happen to afflict. She would only flee when she found out and then I would have lost my only chance at happiness, because if Isabella didn't want to be found, then she wouldn't be found.

It was still silent as any grave would or could be. She gave no indication that I was there, but I didn't care. I was content to just watch her in her state of motionlessness. But then, she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"So, my pictures frighten you?"

I also shivered as the memory of her picture at the carnival was brought to the front of my mind. It still freaked me out that she would always know what was going on inside of my head, while I would never even begin to understand what was going through hers. I think I saw the shadow of a smirk on the side of her angelic and misleading face that I could see; and though it disappeared before I could entirely be sure I had actually seen it, I was positive that it had been there. I wouldn't put it past her to enjoy my fright. She was sadistic, no doubt about that, yet somehow it made her all the more attractive and alluring. Even the hate that had distorted her face as she gazed at Carlisle each time she saw him during that fateful day in the clearing had made her seem even more attractive, if possible. It made her look fierce—like you should run away, but you couldn't because you were spellbound by her.

She was planning something—that she definitely was. But what her plan was I was only left to guess at.

Carefully, I chose my words, aiming to avoid answering the question. A part of me wouldn't let her have the satisfaction of hearing me admit that I was, indeed scared. Though, that part was an idiot. Pride—it would be my downfall. "Why would you say that?"

She ghost chuckled, the sound so soft that it seemed it had not existed in the first place. "Silly Edward," she murmured quietly, still staring out the window. "I know all, do I not?"

I almost shivered again at the reminder that she did, in fact, know all. "Yes," I whispered, matching her pitch, "you do know all, don't you? Wouldn't that get tiring eventually? Knowing everything and anything you ever dreamed of, things people never wanted you to know or even guess at? Things that you never wanted to know in the first place? I would think that it would."

Isabella's face became sorrowful, as if she was finally opening up to me after two long weeks. I wanted to believe that, but a small voice in the back of my head was telling me that it was all part of her game. I was sure she would not lie outright to me—it would 

mess up her game. Instead, I was almost positive that she was only twisting and distorting the truth to fit her needs, exaggerating it. Telling only part of it in order to satisfy me.

"It does," she whispered quietly. "Things I've always seen and suspected, but could never prove, things that would fuel my nightmares if I had any. It gets tiring after awhile."

"But you enjoy it," I said, seeing the flicker of amusement and joy in her eyes at the mention of her power.

"Who could not?" she asked. Her voice chimed, soft and sweet, deceiving as to her real nature. "When we are given something so great, must we not embrace it?"

"But isn't being a vampire just as great?" Her expression turned dark, the corners of her mouth pulling down in a frown. Her dark eyes sparkled dangerously. She had not hunted since before we caught her, refusing to leave and refusing to take the animal blood we offered her. Carlisle was about to snap and try to give her some human blood from the blood bank at the hospital soon, even though he was against drinking human blood. Her pale and drawn appearance was driving him mad because he felt that he should take care of his 'child.' The dark circles under her eyes were pronounced, and her lips—usually a dark blood red—were pale. Her skin was even whiter, if possible.

Another song started up in the silence to fill it. I briefly recognized it as _Had Enough_ by _Breaking Benjamin_. I quickly discarded the information though, blocking out any sound that wasn't Isabella's.

After a long moment, she said, voice carefully controlled, "Vampirism is not what I wanted for myself. And after finding that I was so close to dying already and that Carlisle had changed me because of _you,_"—I winced, knowing that for the most part her accusation was correct— "I find that I do not enjoy being a vampire. It is not a great thing to be. I must drink blood to survive; I cannot ever be around humans—not really, anyway. I can never get close to them. Look at me," she said, voice suddenly loud, "I am talking about humans as if I'm not one. Which, I suppose, I'm not anymore."

I nodded absentmindedly, thinking. "But is it not because you are a vampire that you have your power?"

She hissed quietly. "Must I like the whole package of M&Ms to like the purple one?" Her voice was sharp, deliberate, slicing through my ears and to my core. Her high voice only made the overall experience worse.

I shut my mouth, seeing her point. She didn't have to like being a vampire to like one aspect of it. I had never thought of it that way and I now felt that I had some perspective to what went on in her mind.

In the silence, the heavy rock music finally penetrated my ears, the lyrics registering in my mind at last.

_You had to have it all,_

_Well have you had enough?_

_You greedy little bastard,_

_You will get what you deserve._

_When all is said and done,_

_I will be the one to leave you in the misery and hate what you've become._

_Intoxicated eyes, no longer live that life._

_You should have learned by now, I'll burn this whole world down._

_I need some peace of mind, no fear of what's behind._

_You think you've won this fight; you've only lost your mind._

My mind went into a flurry then, thinking about the lyrics. I knew that all her music pertained to her in some way or form—she related to it. But how did this relate to her? In a sudden burst of realization, I finally saw what it meant. But before I could think more on it, she interrupted my thoughts.

Her voice was sad again when she spoke, no longer sharp and angry. She sighed, "This body, this mind—they are poor remnants of what used to be. And you know the saddest part of it all? Not the blood, or the killing, or the powers, or even the body." She turned to look me straight in the eye, her face fierce and eyes intense, smoldering black orbs that seemed to burrow right into my soul. "It's that I would rather die than be what I am. A monster. And nothing ever can or will change that. Even you, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, the first child of our sire, can't deny that. You believe yourself a monster after what you did. You believe that Carlisle should never have taken you back in and that you should currently be a pile of ashes at the Volturi's feet. Well, so do I. I didn't choose this life, and neither do I choose to live it."

I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for Isabella, knowing that what she said was true for both me and her. I should have been ashes by now, burned to a crisp in a fire, my ashes either staying in the remnants of the blaze or floating up into the sky with the column of sticky, thick purple smoke that would come from burning my skin. It was horrible for one so young and special, for one so naïve who had not seen much of the world, to hate what and who she was, to want to die. It was only made worse by the fact that she couldn't die unless someone else did it for her.

I chose to leave her to her thoughts then, not wanting to disturb her and also wanting to think about what I had just learned.

_**PICTURES FOR THE ROOM ARE ON MY PROFILE!**_

_**PICTURES OF THE CRESTS ON MY PROFILE! **_

_A special thanks to my beta __**Jimita**__, and to __**yoyoente**__ for the idea on how Bella should behave around the Cullens._

_Also, as you have probably heard, Midnight Sun was leaked onto the internet before Stephenie Meyer had the time to edit it and have it published. I feel horrible for her that such a thing would happen. It was wrong of whoever did that. That said, you may have heard that, due to the overflow of e-mails in response to this, __**she has decided to focus on finishing it for publisihing,**__ when before she had decided to put Midnight Sun on hold FOREVER. But, the copy of the unedited version of Midnight Sun is still up on her website. I encourage you to NOT READ IT, if you haven't already. Stephenie did not appreciate the leak, and the only reason she put a copy of it up on her website, was because she didn't want readers to go try to obtain it ILLIGALLY. Still, I have chosen to comply with her wishes to not read it, though it is up on her website. I will wait until it is officially published in book form to go and read it. I hope you choose to as well._

_Signed Sadly,_

_V.H._


	12. The Fall from Grace

_Sorry it has taken so long for me to update. I know it's been forever and a day since the last chapter._

_Thanks again to my amazing beta, Jimita. Without her, you guys would have to put up with a lot of silly mistakes that were in this chapter. Give a big round of applause to her for being so wicked awesome._

Chapter Twelve:

The Fall from Grace

Edward Anthony Masen Cullen

No thoughts could go through my head as I stared up from my place in the garden at the window that Isabella occupied. The flowers and sunshine contrasted violently with the emotions that ruled my body, the same ones that I was sure Isabella was feeling at the moment, though her face was as carefully blank as ever. Her disinterested eyes stared into space, taking in the sight of the rainbows cast off our skin by the sun, most likely in disgust.

I watched as she brought one of her hands to her face, twisting it this way and that in order to completely take in the idea that her skin was smooth and hard and sparkling. Even now, after so many years of observing my own appearance in the sun, I was not yet used to the idea that I did such strange things in the light. It was a painful reminder of what I was, so painful that I avoided the sun whenever I could, for I did not want to see the proof of what I had become.

_A killer. A monster._

She moved to look at me. It was only a brief twitch of the eyes in my general direction, the expression upon her face one of disinterest, but it still gave me a strange thrill. I could not understand what had been happening to me lately. Isabella had some sort of hold on me, one that I knew she knew about and was most likely saving the knowledge for later to exploit. It was dangerous, because she was a creature that had nothing to lose.

_Nothing to lose._

The words echoed in my head, an annoying aide memoire to the fact that, in a moment of weakness, I had let her have a place in my existence that she shouldn't be allowed to have. She would only manipulate her status into something that she could use to hurt me later, something that would drive me to the brink of insanity.

_Because that is what she does. She manipulates and lies in order to gain some form of amusement from her surroundings._

Alice was right. She had seen this; I had seen it in her mind. I had snapped because of something that Isabella had done and it was all because I trusted her.

However, for some reason, I couldn't find it in myself to truly care.

Isabella, the amazing enigma that she was, captivated me. I knew that it was probably all part of her plan, her game that she was playing for her own benefit, but I really did not care about that at all, when I knew that I should. The insight that I had gained from her mind was so intriguing, so mind-boggling. Her logic was flawed, yet still made sense. She did not want this life, she never did, but she was too cowardly to purposely go out and end it. She hated what she was, but was willing to use the aspects she liked of it to amuse herself in this endless string of days and nights. She was juvenile in her games, but still as patient and wise as someone who had much more experience of the world than she did. She was a walking contradiction, something that shouldn't exist, yet did anyway.

I was reminded of something that one of Carlisle's old friends told me.

_Bumblebees aerodynamically shouldn't be able to fly, but they do anyway. I guess no one told them they couldn't, so they go about their days, buzzing and flying around to the astonishment of the rest of the world._

Isabella was proof of that ideology, that as long as you try, you can do anything.

I leaned back against the large oak tree that was next to her window, comfortable under the shade of the leaves, stretching though I did not need to. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

Isabella put down her hand, letting it rest on the windowsill. The window itself had been thrown open, though by whom I did not know. It did not seem like something that Isabella would normally do, but it seemed more reasonable that she had done it, as she probably would have bitten anyone who tried to get so close to her. She didn't like to be touched, from what I had gleamed from the thoughts of the family.

The wind whispered by lazily, caressing my face softly and rustling my hair. It swept up the side of the house and to Isabella's open window, sending the delicate lace curtains fluttering. They tickled the pale and sparkling legs that Isabella had bent in front of her, the bare flesh appealing in a strange way to me. I wanted to touch her, comfort her, talk to her, but none of those I could do. It was so different from what I was used to feeling, so odd and alarming.

Her disconcerting gaze flickered to me again, giving away the fact that she was as intensely aware of me as I was of her. She could probably smell my scent on the breeze. I felt a satisfied smirk spread unbidden across my face as I saw her eyes flicker closed for the shortest of moments, a look of bliss briefly gracing her face before it became the careful mask again.

But it was enough. I knew it was all part of her childish game, to woo me into trailing her like a lost puppy, but it didn't matter. She had smiled because of _my_ scent.

The territorial part of me, the vampire part, briefly took over and let one thought slip.

_Mine._

No, it was not right. She did not belong to me. She was her own person, a broken person, an angry person, but a person nonetheless, even if she did not believe herself worthy of the title.

Before I could stop myself, I was scaling the side of the tree, my fingers finding paths in the bark and branches to the top. It was foolish, selfish, but I needed to be up there with her. I could feel her knowing eyes on me as I climbed, at the top within seconds and perching on a branch that was parallel to her window on the third story. Her startling red eyes watched with practiced blankness as I settled on the branch, my back pressed against the trunk and my legs stretched out on the length of the thick branch. My arms folded across my chest and I smiled at her, a flurry of emotions passing through me.

"Hello."

I spoke before I thought, saying the first thing that sprang to mind. Amusement flashed through her beautiful features, though the rest of her was still as stone. Finally, after seconds that seemed like minutes, she repeated it back to me.

My heart soared, though it shouldn't have. The faint sounds of piano music floated to me through the open window, so quiet that I could not hear them from my position at the base of the tree. I smiled. "Debussy."

Isabella nodded, looking disgruntled.

"Do you not like Claire de Lune?" I had to hear her voice—I wanted it to caress my ears.

She nodded, though, showing that she indeed liked the song.

I was puzzled, and my confusion shown through in my next words. "Then why did you appear upset by it?"

She did not respond, and I was afraid that yet again I had touched upon a subject that she did not wish to explore. But then, "It reminds me of my mother."

I did not understand that, but I let it go, filing it away for things to investigate later when I was no longer in the presence of an all-knowing vampire.

We sat in silence for awhile, not bothering to fill it with meaningless words as the songs changed every few minutes, most being pounding, angry rock and metal songs. I let my mind explore everything I had learned over the past weeks, trying to make sense of the random pieces of information I had come to possess on Isabella Swan, but nothing fit together quite right. It was as if she had given me a puzzle that was all the same, bland color. How could you fit everything together if it all looked the same, but still different?

Isabella smirked, and immediately I realized that she, as always, knew what I was thinking. "Do you find it that hard to put it together, Edward? I feel that I gave you a significant amount of evidence for you to use."

"Evidence?" My voice did not sound my own.

"Oh yes," she said, voice mocking and sarcastic. "When I do leave this world, what I gave you will be used when I'm tried before God —if he even exists—and found worthy of being sent to Hell. But, for you, I suppose that they could be called _clues_."

"Oh," I said, ready to hit myself at the amount of intelligence displayed in my answer.

"Either way, I would have thought that you would have figured it all out by now, knowing how _intelligent_ and _insightful_ you are." The words dripped with mockery, and I knew that they were meant to incite me into reacting violently. She was pushing my buttons, but I would not let her avoid me by using this technique. It still stung, though.

"Aw, did I hurt little Eddie-weddie's feelings?"

I was this close to snapping, but I wouldn't. The baby voice was a nice touch, however.

"I know, wasn't it?"

Still not quite used to hearing her respond to my thoughts, I jumped slightly and had to dig my fingers into the side of the tree to keep from falling off the branch. Now I knew what the others meant by it being disconcerting to have someone answer your thoughts.

"Yeah, it is."

Would she never stop?

"No."

Of course not.

She leaned forward, interest piqued by something. "So, Edward, are you really having that much trouble trying to figure me out? I must say, I find it both highly amusing and slightly touching that I'm not that easy to read."

I'm sure she did, though I was slightly insulted. I prided myself on being able to read people easily, both as a human before the change and as a vampire after. She was just goading me now, rubbing it in my face that I had failed to see the full picture so far.

"True, true."

That was the last straw for me, her mocking voice causing me to snap, "What do you want from me?"

It was folly to let her get me riled up, but I could not help the emotions coursing through me, and it shamed me to know that she could influence me so easily.

She rocked forward from her sitting position and onto her knees, the top half of her body hanging out the window as she beckoned me to come closer. Hesitantly, I approached the goddess, her dark hair flowing in the wind and reminding me vaguely of Rapunzel. That story never did end well.

I edged down the branch until I was close enough for her to whisper to me. Her red lips brushed my ear, pressing against my cheek as she turned her head, thinking. Her nose ghosted down my neck, nudging against the place where, if I was still human, I would have had a pulse. I inhaled sharply, taking in her amazing scent and relishing in the softness of her hair as it stroked my skin. It was even silkier than I had imagined. It was wonderful to be this close to her, breathing her in. I felt her teeth nip at my neck, causing me to jump a little in surprise.

Her glorious lips traveled up the expanse of my throat and back to my ear, her fingers entangling in the hair at the base of my neck as she pulled me ever closer. I held my breath as she whispered her secrets in my ear.

"This."

And then she turned my head and kissed me.

I was momentarily stunned by her forwardness, her sweet lips coercing my mouth open and tricking me into responding. This was what I had wanted; something I knew was not possible. It was a flying bumblebee.

My hands were frozen on the branch, but then they were in her silky hair, slipping down to her hips. I wished that I could pull her out onto the branch with me, or that I could go inside her room—I wanted to be closer.

Then something happened that I didn't expect.

She untangled her hands from my hair, sliding them across my chest. The sensation was enough to distract me from noticing that she had removed my hands from her body and placed them in my lap. I wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, but she was still kissing me, her bright eyes dazzling me as they stared straight into my soul. I felt a devilish smirk grace her lips as they pressed one more time against mine and her small hands pushed against me, and then I was falling.

It happened so painfully slow to my vampire senses. I fell through the air backwards and hit the ground, hard enough to leave a shallow indentation in the damp soil. I could hear her melodious voice as it floated down to me, laughing at _me,_ as she shut the window and the lock clicked into place.

I just closed my eyes, not bothering to move from my place on the ground, my back damp with moisture. She had played me, again.

And I had enjoyed every moment.


	13. A Family Divided

_I'm so sorry for leaving this story for so long. Things have been out of control lately, and I feel as if I am just starting to get my life back in order, if only for a little while. For those of you faithful enough to stick with me__ — thank you._

_I haven't been able to get in contact with my beta yet, so bear with me if there are any mistakes._

_**Previously (I cannot believe I am using one of these, it's been that long since the last chapter):**_

_She untangled her hands from my hair, sliding them across my chest. The sensation was enough to distract me from noticing that she had removed my hands from her body and placed them in my lap. I wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, but she was still kissing me, her bright eyes dazzling me as they stared straight into my soul. I felt a devilish smirk grace her lips as they pressed one more time against mine and her small hands pushed against me, and then I was falling._

_It happened so painfully slow to my vampire senses. I fell through the air backwards and hit the ground, hard enough to leave a shallow indentation in the damp soil. I could hear her melodious voice as it floated down to me, laughing at me, as she shut the window and the lock clicked into place._

_I just closed my eyes, not bothering to move from my place on the ground, my back damp with moisture. She had played me, again._

_And I had enjoyed every moment._

Chapter Thirteen:

A Family Divided

"So you enjoyed your humiliation, then, yes?"

_As if she had to ask,_ I thought to myself. She just wanted to rub in the fact that she has such an influence over me, an influence that she shouldn't even have. It wasn't my fault that I couldn't resist her, and she took advantage of that fact.

She smirked, most likely because of my despair over my inability to manage my own emotions. I glanced away from her, refusing to be held captive by her entrancing features and knowing eyes, eyes that saw into my very soul with no difficulty whatsoever.

I had tried, at least. I had tried so hard to resist going to her after she had played me like one would play a violin, as any self-respecting person would not go to the one who had just pushed you out of a tree after tricking you into kissing them. However, apparently I was not a person with any sense of self-preservation or respect—quite a shock after all those years thinking I was a supercilious ass—for at this rate I would be putty in her hands by the end of the week. No, scratch that—I already was.

So, in newly typical Edward-is-a-Weenie fashion, I had given in—pathetically I might needlessly add—only a few hours after my plunge from the oak tree outside her window, going to her room to simply be in her intoxicating presence. She had laughed at my apparent weakness upon my entrance, having known all along that I would not be strong enough to follow through with my resolve to avoid her room—and through that avoidance, her.

I could just imagine the kids in Chicago who had always ridiculed me for being a stuffed shirt—only now I could hear them laughing at me through the time vortex for being such a pantywaste.

It was almost infuriating, how nauseatingly quiescent and irritatingly taciturn she was at the moment, just content to torture me with her biting remarks and sarcasm, not to mention the reminder of her other actions that, as of late, had caused a very particular reaction to arise in my more…lower regions. This she also knew about, of course, and had intended to cause the entire time of her plotting.

How could one person, so small in stature, be capable of causing such irritation to form in someone who was usually so tolerant and calm, such as me? Never before had I just bowed down to another person with next to no fight, yet here I was letting her treat me as she would treat a pawn on a chessboard—amusing and useful, but expendable.

I was Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. I was snide, sarcastic, eloquent, complacent, and disdainful, not to mention egotistical and mildly narcissistic on occasion. And here I was, reduced to a mumbling, bumbling excuse for a vampire, a star-struck puppy that was lapping at another's hand.

It wasn't quite fair, now that I thought about it.

"No, it isn't, is it? But then again, since when have I ever played fair? I distinctly remember cheating at jacks on playground, after all."

I managed not to choke this time, stopping myself from jumping at the sound of her voice as it interrupted my musings. I felt proud, if for a brief moment, that I had not shown my alarm at her use of her power in a way that would be recognizable to any normal person. However, it ended as soon as her cynical laugh reached my ears a second later, a clear reminder that she, despite her innocent appearance, was not the normal person everyone suspected of her.

Isabella's grin was that of the Cheshire cat, mischievous and knowing. Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly in a way that was seductive and the corner of her mouth lifted as she looked at me through her long lashes.

"So predictable," she purred, voice deep and silky, "so, so predictable." I couldn't bring myself to feel insulted, so alluring her voice sounded to my ears. "See, there," she said casually, dismissing me by flicking her eyes back to the yard that lay beyond the glass pane of the window seat. "Your reluctance to leave me, your desire to be near me even though I insult you and make you feel inferior, is so utterly and sadly predictable. It is like I am a drug, and you are addicted to me. It is pathetic, really, as you said. Excuse me, though." She grinned at me again, the one visible eye fixed on me as she kept her face directed toward the window, only the right side of her face in view.

She was such a little minx. Willing to play with my heart now and rip it to shreds later. How charming.

"Ah," Isabella breathed wistfully, "but you adore me still." She turned her body so that her legs dangled from the window seat and she faced me, so small and petite that her toes did not even graze the carpet. She was cute, sort of. In that I'm-screwing-with-your-mind-and-I-like-it sort of way.

She toyed with the hem of her black dress; her white fingers in stark contrast with the black over-lace of the fabric that she was prodding. I watched her hands, noticing that her nails were painted a shiny black and wondering when she had the time to do it. But Isabella always found a way to do what she wanted, and if she needed time, she could probably make the earth stop spinning in order to get it.

Her fingers slowly picked at the lace as she spoke, smoothly plucking at the strands with a cold efficiency that was evident in her voice. "No matter," she sighed, shaking her head. "That always was, still is, and always will be. Trust me. Your attraction to me is odd, so unexplainable, hilarious, almost."

She gave a heartless laugh, one that showed she did not think it was funny at all. "You see," she began, and my eyes stayed trained on her fingers as the fabric disintegrated around her dark nails, picked apart so expertly with the help of her strong, vampire eyes. "You would jump to help me, despite how I treat you, maybe even because of it. You _need_ me." Her voice took a slightly mad lilt to it as she said the last sentence, a devilish grin spreading across her face.

I watched in horror as, without warning, she dug her nail into her now bare thigh, a hideous screech splitting the air as her skin was parted and the deep cut welled with venom, no blood. I leaped from my customary seat next to her, grabbing her thin wrists with my hands and dragging them away from her body, screaming at her and pulling her to her feet.

"What are you doing?!" my voice called out, my orange eyes — a product of the animal and human blood still in my system — staring at her as I shook her. What was she thinking?! My mind screamed that she was a danger to herself — that I needed to protect her from herself. _Why is she causing herself harm?_ "_What are you doing?!_"

A high keen sounded, but it was only her laugh, and how she laughed at me. It was loud, it was unrestrained, it was cruel. Her features morphed, sharp and devastating, her mouth open in a perfect oval, pink lips stretched wide, giving me a delicious peek at her tongue as it flicked out at her lips.

My alarm only grew at her behavior. Had she finally gone insane from the hatred and the games she tried to play?

And then she was yanking away from me, no longer laughing, hands now at her sides and leaving me with a strange empty feeling. Isabella's eyes blazed, hair dark and wild, her expression furious. "You see?!" she screamed, pointing an accusing finger at me. "_You see?!_"

I didn't understand, I couldn't see what she wanted me to see. I reached out, trying to take hold of her outstretched hand, but she ripped it away and twirled around, dress flaring and showing me her now healed thigh. Her long hair smacked me across the face, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Storming over to the window seat, she stood there blazing with anger.

My hand lifted to place itself on her shoulder against my wishes, seeking an answer to what had upset her, but before I could get a handle on myself she had whirled around to face me again, hair fanning out around her like she was in a tempest.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she screamed, stamping her feet and thrusting out her hands to push me away. "STOP LOOKING AT ME!"

I was flying through the air, my back crashing through her armoire, wood splintering beneath me, though I did not go through the wall. I simply sat there in her cabinet, clothes scattered around me, watching in shock as Isabella paced around, hands in the air as she howled in rage.

"HOW CAN YOU SEE ME LIKE THIS?!" She prowled toward me, still pacing. "I lie, I cheat, I manipulate. I do what I want, when I want, and no one can stop me. And you, _you_," her voice took on a low, dangerous tone and she stilled her movements, glaring at me, "with your 'caring' and your 'faith' in our sire and your god. How deceived you are! How can you think that your prayers and your wishing will serve you in the end? There is no god, there is no hope, and _there certainly isn't_ _anything that you can do to 'help' me!_" she hissed, crouching down slightly. "You cannot care for me. I _am_ dangerous, I _am_ bad, and I _will_ break you. You, and Carlisle, and everyone else in this pitiful 'family' of vampires, you all are no more worthy than the rest of us, no more deserving of _anything_! Your animals and your human pets do not redeem you in the eyes of _anyone_!"

I stood, brushing aside the clothing that clung to me from the armoire and marched to her, taking her forearms in my strong grip and refusing to let her pull them free. "Do you really think that?!" I yelled, staring down at her. "Do you?! Is this how you see yourself? Is this how you see me? You are not some charity case; you are not some horrible creature, despite what you believe! You know me, you can see into my mind and through my actions —"

She swore, cutting me off and turning away, this time I let her. Pacing across the room again, she hissed and growled and spat. "I am _evil_," she said once she had recovered control over her speech. "You are so entranced with the outside that you do not see what I truly am and have fooled yourself into thinking that I can be 'saved,' as you have put it. But I, I am different from what you believe me to be. Has it not crossed your mind that maybe, just maybe, I do not _want_ to be saved?!" Her voice had risen about an octave in pitch, but I did not care. Let her get angry, let her roar. Possibly she would see, then, that it was not worth the fight to push me away.

"SHUT UP!" she screamed suddenly, clutching her head and falling to her knees, covering her ears as if that would help block the noise. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Stop thinking those things, stop saying them! I don't want them; I don't want to hear them! I don't want to know them! I DIDN'T WANT THIS!"

She lashed out at me as I tried to comfort her, nails raking at my cheek and creating long gashes in my shirt. She was sobbing, screaming unintelligibly and I couldn't take it; I couldn't stand her pain, which was also somehow mine. I hadn't wanted this life either – I had wanted to be human and die human, but I would not allow her to make the same mistakes I did when I had rebelled against Carlisle. No, I would help her through this; I would show her how to cope. Even if that meant Isabella screaming insults and trying to tear me limb from limb, I would do it.

"Just…just stop it. Just stop," she cried, doubling over on the floor and clenching her hands into fists. For the first time since I had met her, her voice broke and so many emotions showed through, not just the ones she wanted me to see and hear. She no longer let her strong façade control her face, and I saw genuine fear, and hate, and acceptance cross her prominent features.

"Just stop. Just stop." Her mantra continued and, for the first time since I had met her, I felt as if Isabella was finally breaking down and excepting that I cared for her, as did Carlisle and everyone else.

I knelt down next to her, placing one of my large hands on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. I didn't know how she would react to me touching her, as the last time she had attacked me, but I was willing to risk harm if it helped her.

"It's alright," I murmured, rubbing her back. "It's alright. Everything will be fine. Trust me."

She glanced up, eyes puffy looking, as if she had been crying though no tears stained her cheeks. "Really?" she asked. "Can I trust you?"

I nodded, "Of course."

Isabella smiled an unadulterated smile that reached her eyes and did not hold any of the usual sinister feelings or malevolence in it. Her bright eyes swam with tears that would never fall and suddenly she was close, so close that the tips of our noses were touching and I could practically taste her.

And then she was kissing me again, lips molding against mine and her tiny hands against my chest. I let her push me backwards into the soft carpet, amazed at how she had flipped on a dime, but mostly distracted by the feel of her lips on my skin and how wonderful it felt as her cool tongue slid up the side of my neck, going back to place hungry kisses along my neck and jaw.

A moan escaped me, and I felt her lips twitch upwards as she continued to kiss up and down my neck, laying across my chest with her thighs flush to mine. The things this girl did to me were incredible, drawing inexplicable reactions from me. I moaned again as she licked a trail up to my ear and blew softly on it, the cool stream of air causing a shiver to course through me. Her hands traced the muscles of my arms and chest, slowly sliding up my shirt. My back arched at the feeling and I closed my eyes, sighing in pleasure.

Her lips kissed the place where my neck and shoulder met, and I felt her breath on my skin. "And do you trust me?"

It took a moment for me to clear my head of the Isabella-induced fog that had clouded it so that I could form a semi-coherent answer. "Yes. Yes, Isabella, of course." I felt her grinning and a sense of foreboding suddenly weighed down on me. Something wasn't right, something was off. I wanted to push her off me, but found that I couldn't make my arms move.

"You are so smart," she mocked, and then her teeth pierced my flesh, pain flashing through me from where her lips rested at my jugular. I groaned, agony lancing through my body, and it only got worse as Isabella dug her teeth deeper, seeking to cause me even more pain.

I grabbed her by the waist, trying to pull her off, but she had straddled my hips and was using her weight as leverage. I couldn't pull her off without hurting her and, though I would return the favor to anyone else, I would not do so to her.

A scream ripped from my throat as pain pulsed through my body again, becoming more intense with each time Isabella adjusted her bite. The venom from her teeth was burning me from the inside, and my fingers dug into the carpet, ripping at it as she bit down on my neck again.

I heard a bang somewhere in the distance, and then I felt Isabella being torn off me. I saw her as she was thrown to the corner of the room like a rag doll, growling lowly as Carlisle's blond hair and light eyes appeared above me. He pulled me to my feet, supporting me as I staggered and placed a hand on Isabella's bite mark, hissing as I did so. The pain was so hot it felt cold and I knew it would be several hours before her venom burned off, even if the wound was already sealing itself.

I glanced up at Isabella, who Emmett had restrained and was currently holding by the neck so that her feet could not touch the ground, though she was so short that it was not much of an accomplishment on his part. Her eyes met mine, grin still in place, and I could have hit myself as I realized that she had yet again played my emotions against me and had succeeded.

I heard Carlisle sigh heavily from beside me and broke my gaze to look at him. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair as he took in Isabella, trying to figure out what to do with her. His mind was going through several options, though none that he liked and because of that had discarded.

"Emmett," he sighed after a moment, still supporting my frame, "that is quite unnecessary."

He gave a meaningful look at Isabella, and Emmett reluctantly released his hold on her neck, only to pin her back to his chest with his strong arms. At Carlisle's sharp glare, he shrugged and replied, "Just in case." Carlisle nodded distractedly and turned to me.

"Are you alright, Edward? Did she do anything else to you?"

I was suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment as I realized that everyone, including Rosalie, was in the room and staring at me. Had I really just been attacked by a smaller, weaker vampire and not been able to hold her off?

"That appears to be the case, my dear."

All heads swiveled from me to Isabella, confused thoughts assaulting me while I winced and brought a hand to my temple to rub it, the burning of her venom forgotton, as if that would stop the torrent of voices. I wasn't use to the constant banter being so close to me, as when I was still in my rebellious stage I either stayed outside the cities and went in briefly at night to hunt, or I was distracted or far enough away from the chatter that I could let it fade to the background.

And now, whenever I was with Isabella — which was more often than I would care to admit — I could simply put all the voices out of my mind because her silence deafened them. It was such a relief to not have to listen all the time to what others were thinking, though at the same time it was beyond irritating because, more than anything, I wanted to know what she was thinking.

Isabella's tinkling laugh filtered through the air at their confused looks, and also probably at my plight.

"What the hell is she laughing about?" asked Emmett, a perplexed look on his face that reflected his equally mystified thoughts.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she taunted him, cackling wickedly at Emmett's frustrated growl. She knew he didn't like it when people jibed him about things he didn't understand, and she was doing it just to spite him.

"Ignore her, Emmett," I snapped, picking up on his contemptuous thoughts.

"Aw, but Eddy," she trilled, face innocent, "I thought you liked me."

Rosalie snorted and I shot a glare at her, but either she didn't notice or didn't care. I kicked angrily at the torn carpet as I began to pace, breaking away from Carlisle's grip and tugging at my hair in frustration at both Isabella's antics and the burning in my veins.

"Carlisle," Esme started slowly, dreading the thought of his reaction to what she was about to say. "What are we going to do about her?" She nodded her head toward Isabella, causing everyone to look at her briefly, still trapped in Emmett's arms, and then turn their attention back to Carlisle.

"Well," I heard Isabella's voice drawl out; something wicked in her voice that immediately had me on guard for whatever devious thing she was planning. She paused, seeming to wait for everyone to glance over at her again. They didn't, apparently trying to ignore her as best they could as they waited for Carlisle to give them an answer. She continued anyway, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I know what Carlisle would like to _do_ with me."

Almost instantly all eyes were turned to her, shock and, in Esme's case, horror at the implication of what she had just said playing on their faces and throughout their minds. Esme whipped around to face Carlisle, who looked flabbergasted at what Isabella had just claimed.

"Tell me it's not true, Carlisle," she begged, although in her thoughts, she was remembering all those times he didn't want her to go hunting with Isabella and him, and how often he tried to keep Isabella away from them, "please say it isn't true."

Carlisle couldn't seem to speak, his mouth glued shut and his thoughts racing, so incoherent that I couldn't follow one train of thought to the next.

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Isabella sneered, not sounding sorry at all. "I guess he just couldn't stay interested in you, darling."

Esme spun away from her husband and started in on Isabella, fire lighting her eyes, though it didn't mask the hurt she felt at the idea of Carlisle betraying her. "_You_," she hissed, closing in on Isabella, who was still held back by Emmett, "you did this! You lie!" Just as she was about to pounce, I suddenly found myself between them, stopping Esme from attacking.

"Stay away!" I snarled, crouching down in front of Isabella's small form.

Esme leaned back, astonished. "You're protecting her? After what she did?!"

"She did _nothing!_" I countered, taking a menacing step toward her, ignoring the thoughts in the back of my mind that I didn't know for sure if what I was claiming was true, let alone that this was supposed to be my _mother_. "Can't you see what she is trying to do? She's trying to manipulate all of you, and she's succeeding! You're all like puppets that she can play with and do whatever she wishes!"

"Look who's calling the kettle black, Eddie-kins," I heard her hum from behind me, "my darling marionette. Maybe I am manipulating the lot of you, but there is always that possibility that I'm telling the truth. Maybe Carlisle and I fooled around a bit — if you know what I mean."

I could tell from her voice that she was grinning, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I looked to Carlisle, still standing in shock at the accusations. "Well, is it true?" I asked, not a bit of pleading in my voice. I just wanted to know if what Isabella said had any ground.

"Wait," I heard Rosalie butt in, and Jasper's thoughts echoed what she was about to say. "You can't tell from his thoughts that he didn't do anything?"

Now all eyes were on me, and my level of discomfort rose even higher. They always assumed I knew _everything_, that nothing could be hidden from me. Before I could speak, however, Isabella was talking.

"Oh no," she said mockingly, "that would be too easy. You see, dear Edward over here isn't as all knowing as he likes to appear. He can be fooled by such a talented mind as Carlisle's so even if he couldn't pick up on anything about Carlisle and I, there would always be that _doubt_ in the back of his mind, that voice that nagged at him, wondering if he had the wool pulled over his eyes. That's the beauty of it all, really. You'll never really _know._"

She was laughing again, head thrown back and shaking from it as tremors racked her body. Emmett threw her down in disgust and turned away, leaving the room. Still, she howled in amusement, and Esme gave one last look at Carlisle before following Emmett out of this crazy room, doubt swirling through her mind, unsure what she should believe anymore. Jasper and Alice trailed behind her, Alice glancing at me in worry before she disappeared. She knew there was more to this than what everyone else was seeing, and she worried over what all of this meant.

Rosalie stayed, though why I couldn't tell you. She hated Isabella for starting this, but seemed to think that Carlisle was innocent of adultery. She patted a still stunned Carlisle on the shoulder, glanced at me with an indecipherable look in her eyes before turning to gaze upon Isabella in disgust.

By this time, Isabella had quieted and was now sitting up and looking up at us evenly from the floor. Rosalie finally left, pretending to crouch down and lunge at her as she left — childishly, I might add — in order to portray the idea that Isabella couldn't mess with her. The fake didn't fool her, though, and she just made a face at Rosalie before turning back to us.

It struck me, then, what Isabella was trying to do. Whatever her grand plan was, this was just a small part of the scheme, meant to split us apart. After all, a family divided was no family at all, and if we couldn't even trust each other, who did we have left? We had nothing and no one other than ourselves, and Isabella was driving us apart as surely as a predator did a herd of sheep.

And we were just as brainless as those sheep to let her do it.

_Slang terms:_

_Pantywaste: __A boy or man who is considered weak or effeminate._

_Stuffed Shirt/Someone is a stuffed shirt: a man or woman whose behavior is very formal, or is very self-important_


End file.
